


Forged in Fire

by D2b



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Arithmancy (Harry Potter), Fire Powers, Gen, Phoenix tears, Runes, Superhero Harry Potter, mentioned torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-07-12 16:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15998648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D2b/pseuds/D2b
Summary: Captured by a terrorist organisation in the summer after his second year, Harry Potter is tortured and experimented on in the hopes of creating a super soldier serum. Months later, after an attack on his convoy, genius billionaire Tony Stark is taken prisoner by the Ten Rings, meeting Harry and another fellow prisoner, Ho Yinsen, before the three decide to plan an escape.





	1. Issue #1

_I do not attempt to claim ownership of Marvel Comics or the Harry Potter series._

* * *

**FORGED IN FIRE**

**Issue #1**

**‘How Do We Sleep When Our Beds are Burning?’**

* * *

 

**_Leaky Cauldron / 31.07.2008_ **

 

Harry Potter was no ordinary thirteen year-old.

After all, how many thirteen year-olds would spend the early hours of their birthday pouring over books of spells and potions hungrily, desperately searching for answers?

Harry squinted, his eyes stinging with tiredness, as he tore through page after page, searching for the answer.

“Damn it,” sighed Harry, closing '328 Uses of Phoenix Tears’ carefully, he did not want to deal with the hassle of waking other patrons.

At least he didn't have to deal with the Dursleys' shit anymore.

Not since.

Harry raised a hand, flexing it, before a ball of orange flames suddenly sprung from it, hovering an inch above his palm, unaffected by the blistering heat.

Ever since that day, the day he'd gone down into that Chamber, the day he'd fought Voldemort, and won, again.

Ever since the day he should have died.

The Basilisk venom that almost killed him, and the Phoenix tears that saved him.

Harry closed his hand into a fist, extinguishing the ball of flames.

If he thought his life was crazy before, it had only got worse when he woke up the day after the Chamber incident.

Agony.

Pure agony.

Like his body was freezing and burning at the same time.

When the pain had finally subsided, Harry had found his body changed, he was stronger, faster, his stamina was vastly improved.

However, the most alarming changes were his new ability to summon flames without his wand, and that all his injuries were completely healed, barring any scars from before the Chamber incident.

After that he'd torn through the library with fervor that made Hermione proud, looking for answers.

But none had come, not even when he'd recruited Hermione and a very reluctant Ron into helping. However, he'd managed to convince Madam Prince into letting him take a small library's worth of books home with him.

As for what had happened after he returned to the Dursleys, the less said about it the better.

Despite all that Harry still hadn't found the true answer, but he had made some progress.

One of the reasons Basilisk venom was so deadly was that when Herpo the Foul had bred the first Basilisk he'd enchanted the species so that its venom perpetually remained in the victim's body, making any antidotes useless.

On the other hand Phoenix tears self-regenerated until all injuries remained, thus meaning that both the Basilisk venom and Phoenix tears were still in his body, fighting for dominance.

Harry had even gone as far as to deliberately cut his palm to test if this was the case, the Phoenix tears healing the wound almost instantly. This, however, still didn't explain why his body had changed and he could summon flames at will.

At least one good effect of all the reading was all the new factoids he now knew, like the fact male basilisks could generate ice, making him glad at the one he'd faced had been female, and that Phoenix tears were the key ingredient in an addiction curing potion, and one that cured erectile dysfunction.

No wonder Dumbledore was always so cheerful.

A smashing sound suddenly echoed from outside his door.

Harry jumped out his seat, grabbing his wand and slowly creeping towards the door.

Carefully, Harry pushed it open, to be greeted by a red light, and then his world went black.

 

* * *

 

**_Afghanistan / 13.02.2009_ **

 

He was going to die.

He never thought his life would end this way, the great Tony Stark forced to build arms for terrorists and then to be disposed of. To be honest he'd always imagined his death at a very old age after pleasing two beautiful models, perhaps even three.

“They'll never find you in these mountains.”

Tony looked up from the fire, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, at the man who saved his life, the one he'd met at that conference in Bern at the turn of the millennium, so he'd been told.

“That's comforting,” quipped Tony morosely.

“What you just saw, that's your legacy, Stark,” continued the doctor, sitting down at the fire as well, “your life's work the hands, of those murderers, is that how you want to be remembered?”

Jumping up at the sound of the door opening, Tony looked up. Surely they couldn't expect results that fast, it had only been an hour since the leader demanded he built the Jericho missile.

“Stay back,” muttered the doctor, indicating for Tony to step back from the door.

Backing away, Tony watched at the metal cell door swung open, allowing two of their captors to enter, carrying the broken and beaten form of a teenager between them.

Dropping the teen on a camp bed, the two terrorists left the cell, locking the door behind them. Kneeling down, the doctor set to work, cleaning the blood from the teen, revealing the true severity of his injuries.

Tony wanted to be sick, the boy couldn't be more than about fourteen. Nearly every part of him was injured, a large cut running from his forehead to his chin had gouged through his left eye, both his legs appeared to be broken and he was missing several fingers and toes.

“Oh god,” muttered Tony, feeling a fire light inside of him, “they're monsters.”

“Don't worry, he’ll be fine,” assured the doctor as he set one of the boy’s legs.

“What do mean, fine?” retorted Tony, “I'm not a doctor but he looks like he's gone through a meat grinder.”

“They do this to him every week, I just have to make sure I set any broken bones before he heals,” replied the doctor, finishing setting the boy’s other leg.

Tony opened his mouth to reply be stopped short as he watched as the boy’s injuries begin to heal at an incredible rate. Tony stared as the slash on the boy’s face healed completely, his legs repaired themselves with a series of sickening snaps and his missing fingers and toes grew back.

“Impossible,” breathed Tony.

“He's enhanced,” spoke the doctor, “if I had to guess I'd say a modified version of the super soldier serum.”

“What's his name?” asked Tony, watching as the boy finished healing, but stayed lying flat on his back, his unfocused eyes pointing at the ceiling.

“I don't know, he's never said a word,” answered the doctor, “they broke him long before they took me, I call him Khalid, it's means-”

“Eternal,” finished Tony.

“I didn't think you knew Arabic,” stated the doctor.

“I don't, I did a semester on it in college to impress a girl,” explained Tony, “pretty much all I remember is that and the Arabic for ‘I didn't sleep with your wife’.”

“So, why are you here?” queried Tony, “why did they take you?”

“I'm a doctor of biochemistry,” responded the doctor, “I was taken to create a super soldier serum from Khalid’s blood, and as a translator.”

“I'm guessing so far it hasn't worked,” muttered Tony.

“No, the last attempt killed the one who took it,” replied the doctor, “they seem to think Khalid knows the secret behind how to make the serum work.”

“That's why they're torturing him,” stated Tony.

“Correct,” affirmed the doctor, “either that or the fact that they just enjoy it.”

Tony looked down at the unconscious kid, tortured so those terrorists could build a new weapon.

He couldn't help, he couldn't help but feel maybe he wasn't so different from those terrorists, albeit far more hands off. How many innocent people were injured or died because he'd decided to build a new weapon.

A more efficient killing machine.

“I going to stop them, I promise,” spoke Tony, feeling his resolve building.

How many children had lost their parents because of his weapons? How many children had died and suffered because of him?

Was he no better than those terrorists.

Tony nodded his head, “looks like we've got a lot of work to do, Dr…”

“Yinsen, Dr. Ho Yinsen,” replied the doctor, “And don't bother with the joke about never meeting a man named Ho, I've heard it before.”

“Whoever did tell that joke's pretty funny,” replied Tony, turning back to face the cache of weapons and missiles the terrorist had dumped in their cave.

“It was you.”

Tony smiled, “Damn, I'm good.”

 

* * *

 

**_4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging / 29.06.2008_ **

 

_Glaring at the retreating forms of his aunt and uncle, Harry grabbed his heavy trunk and lifted it out of the car. Reaching back in, Harry grabbed Hedwig’s cage, the snowy owl asleep inside._

_“Come on, this might be the last time you get to stretch your wings before we go back to Hogwarts,” spoke Harry, unlocking the cage, rousing his owl._

_Hedwig gave Harry a sleepy glare but hopped out of her cage and took flight. Harry sighed, he was scared, when he'd left the Dursleys’ house last summer it had come after weeks of being locked in his room with bars on the window and involved a flying Ford Anglia._

_It almost made him want to fight the Basilisk again, almost._

_“Hurry up, boy!” barked Vernon from the front door of Number 4 Privet Drive._

_“Coming, Uncle Vernon,” replied Harry, shutting the car boot and dragging his trunk to the door._

_“In quick!” ordered Vernon, “Trunk under the stairs, keep the cage!”_

_Following instructions Harry deposited the trunk on his old bed in the cupboard under the stairs and shut the door._

_“In here,” snapped Vernon, indicating to the lounge as he locked the cupboard door, “And leave the cage here for now.”_

_Putting the cage down and walking into the lounge, Harry took a seat on the sofa, while Vernon shut the door and dropped into his armchair._

_“You're lucky we agreed to take you back after that stunt last summer,” grumbled Vernon, “But this year I'm going to lay down some ground rules, understood?”_

_“Understood,” responded Harry._

_“Good, now your aunt will write out a list of chores for you, if she asks you to do anything, you do it,” explained Vernon, “Now, in return, your owl can come and go, at night only, and keep your friends updated that you're fine. And if you behave yourself we’ll allow some books out of your trunk to keep on your room only, so you can do your homework, got it?”_

_Pushing the urge to make a sarcastic remark down Harry replied, “Yes, sir.”_

_“Now it's time for your punishment,” spoke Vernon, picking up Dudley’s Smeltings stick from the coffee table, “Hand out!”_

_Calming himself, Harry slowly raised his left hand and held it out._

_“Good,” smiled Vernon, his eyes glinting manically, “Let's begin.”_

_Flinching as the cane came down, Harry bit his tongue to stop himself from shouting as it dug into the palm of his hand over and over._

_After what felt like an eternity Vernon stopped, “Now wasn't that ea-”_

_Opening his eyes, Harry quickly in the sight of his Uncle’s rapidly purpling face. Looking down at his hand, Harry’s mouth fell open, the wound from the cane was nearly completely healed._

_“You freak, you dare use magic in my home!” yelled Vernon, standing and grabbing Harry’s throat, lifting him up, “I'll give you something you won't heal!”_

_Wheezing, Harry watched from his increasingly blurry vision as his aunt slammed the door open, screaming at his uncle to let him go._

_Gathering the last of his strength, Harry lashed out with his foot. Screaming, Vernon dropped Harry as he collapsed to the floor, cradling his crotch._

_Storming past his aunt, Harry ripped the understairs cupboard door open, easily breaking the lock and grabbing his trunk. Dragging it behind him, Harry marched towards the door when Vernon stormed out of the lounge, barring Harry's way, his face pulsing purple._

_“I'm going to show you your proper place, you freak!” spat Vernon, “In a grave with your filthy parents.”_

_Harry eyes lit up with fire, “I was willing leave without hurting you, but then you had to go and insult my parents.”_

_Holding up a hand, orange flames coated it before Harry charged at Vernon, slamming his open palm against his chest._

_Vernon collapsed onto his back, screaming in agony as his skin sizzled._

_Harry looked down at his uncle, the burn mark perfectly resembling a phoenix with its wings unfurled._

_“Burn in hell,” sneered Harry, planting his foot square on the burn as he stepped over Vernon, banging his trunk over him as well._

_“They'll never let you go back,” spat Petunia from the sidelines, “You've done your freak stuff again, they'll snap your stick!”_

_Harry turned back to face Petunia, smiling, “Their detection charm recognises a spell based on intent, it ignores accidental magic, it lacks intent.”_

_Flames danced across Harry's palm, “This, this is pure instinct.”_

_Slamming the front door open, Harry marched out, catching sight of Dudley returning home, looking confused, nothing unusual there._

_Harry's hand spiked with roaring flames, “Try anything and I roast you like the pig you are!”_

 

* * *

 

**_Present Day_ **

 

With a gasp Khalid woke, sitting bolt upright, gasping and covered in sweat.

“You alright?”

Looking around, Khalid saw Stark sat at the fire, fiddling with some machine.

Glaring, Khalid swung his feet over the edge of the bed, staring at the ground.

“Those scars you've got,” spoke Tony, “They're from before you got your powers, aren't they.”

Khalid looked down and continued to ignore the man.

“Who was it?” queried Tony, “Who abused you?”

Khalid froze.

“I know what those kind of scars look like,” continued Tony, “I see them in the mirror every morning.”

Walking over, Tony sat on the camp bed next to Khalid.

“When I was kid my parents barely had any time for me, our butler, Jarvis, practically raised me,” explained Tony, “He died when I was 8, cancer, so my parents hired a new butler.”

“He was nice at first, he gained my trust,” spoke Tony, “But then he turned nasty, he'd hit me for nothing and convince me I deserved it. It went on for years, he left one day and never came back, got bored I guess.”

Tony sighed and fell into a calm silence, the only sound was Yinsen’s light snoring.

“Harry.”

“Pardon,” blurted Tony, turning to face Khalid, in the two weeks he'd been here the teen hadn't said a single word.

“My name’s Harry,” muttered the teen, with the voice that clearly hadn't been used in a while.

“Pleased to meet you, Harry,” replied Tony, smiling.

 

* * *

 

**_Malfoy Retreat, Southern France, 17.08.2008_ **

 

_Abraxas Malfoy wheezed and coughed, blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth._

_“Is Master Abraxas okay?” questioned a male house-elf as he stood at the side of the bed._

_“I am dying of Dragon Pox,” groused Abraxas, “So, bloody brilliant.”_

_The house-elf wringed his hands, “Is Master Abraxas being sarcastic?”_

_“Take a sodding guess,” snapped Abraxas._

_Abraxas cursed his luck, deposed as the head of the Malfoy Family, his blasted son taking the Malfoy wand, banished to land of the fucking frogs and dying from a disease most kids could shake in a week._

_After Lucius had discovered the role Abraxas had played during the last Wizarding War, Abraxas had suddenly developed Dragon Pox and been shipped of the Malfoy chateau to rot._

_That had been nearly three years ago, Lucius had made it clear he expected him to die here._

_“Yet I live,” chuckled Abraxas, while he was still alive Lucius could not assume full Headship, only as a proxy._

_Abraxas coughed again, spraying his handkerchief with blood._

_He was still alive, but not for long._

_He had hours, days at the absolute most._

_A loud tapping echoed on the window, Abraxas’ eyes moving to see a burned russet Screech Owl, a letter tried to its leg._

_Abraxas frowned, “Impossible.”_

_“Is Master Abraxas wishing for Luxin to let the owl in?” asked the house-elf._

_“Quickly!”_

_Luxin darted over to the window, opening it wide, the owl swooping inside, performing a lap around the room, before landing on the bedpost beside Abraxas._

_Fumbling with the twine, Abraxas cursed his lack of a wand and his weakened grip, before he managed to free the letter._

_Taking a moment to examine the seal on the back, gold wax with the symbol of a Phoenix marked into it, Abraxas tore it open, pulling the letter out and quickly beginning to read it._

_Abraxas’ face showed a rollercoaster of emotions, shifting from one to the next, before he dropped the letter to his lap._

_“My dear, you have outdone yourself.”_

 

* * *

 


	2. Issue #2

_I do not attempt to claim ownership of Marvel Comics or the Harry Potter series._

* * *

**FORGED IN FIRE**

**Issue #2**

**‘To Cut a Long Story Short’**

* * *

  

**_Afghanistan / 22.02.2009_ **

 

Harry looked down at his hand, his head moving slowly, his mind sluggish and dull.

Desperately searching for any trace of magic left within, Harry felt hope begin to bubble up as a wisp of smoke rose from his palm, heralding the arrival of a small flame, before it flickered out.

Sighing, Harry pulled the thick coat tighter around himself as he sat in front of the fire, listening to the sound of Stark and Yinsen working away at building that Muggle weapon that their capture had demanded.

Tony dropped down into a chair to Harry's left, warming his hands on the fire, “You okay, Kid?”

“Peachy,” croaked Harry in reply, his voice strained from a lack of use.

Tony frowned, the kid was terrified, he could tell.

Hell, he was terrified.

But he had to remain calm, act like his normal self to reassure the kid.

Then again, he wasn’t even sure if his normal self existed anymore.

Tony stoked the fire, “If you don't mind me asking, how did you end up here?”

Harry's expression darkened, “I do mind.”

Slowly lowering gaze to the flames, Harry allowed his mind to wander back to that day. The day he was taken.

 

* * *

 

_Harry groaned as he came back to consciousness, his head pounding, his mouth dry._

_“What happened?” mumbled Harry, trying to move his arms, only to find them restrained behind him, his upper body secured to a chair with rope, “What the hell?”_

_Shifting to examine his surroundings, Harry found that he was in a dimly lit cave of some kind, but it looked man-made, a mine perhaps._

_Taking a deep breath, Harry lit his hands on fire, praying that it would burn through the rope._

_“That won't work.”_

_Harry's head snapped up, looking around for the source of the voice, a voice that sounded familiar._

_“Malfoy,” hissed Harry._

_“Close, but as the filthy muggles say, no cigar.”_

_A man that once resembled Lucius Malfoy stepped out of shadows, his face snake like, his eyes a blood red colour_

_“What happened to you?” breathed Harry, in shock._

_“You!” spat Lucius. “You did this to me!”_

_Lucius reached into his robes and produced a black book, a ragged hole in the center._

_“The Diary,” muttered Harry, “how did you get hold of it, Dumbledore had it!”_

_Lucius’ deformed face twisted into an expression of smug satisfaction, “Minister Fudge and I are very good friends.”_

_“You bribed him.”_

_“I convinced him that I know a few experts that would be able to more thoroughly analyse the cursed object,” drawled Lucius._

_Harry rolled his eyes, “and I'm sure it's pure coincidence that Fudge's decision coincided with a very generous donation.”_

_“Quite.”_

_“So enough about the old boys’ club rubbing each other off, how did I fuck your face up?” questioned Harry innocently, knowing exactly the response he was going to get._

_Lucius’ snake-like features morphed and flushed red with rage, “How dare you!”_

_“Keep that up and you're going to look like my uncle,” added Harry, “actually, scratch that, he looks better than you do.”_

_Lucius roared with fury, whipping his wand out to point at Harry's face, “No so pithy now, are you?”_

_“Pithy, what is this, the 1800s?” drawled Harry, before pausing and tilting his head, “Actually, yeah, no, that makes sense.”_

_“You insolent child,” spat Lucius, “Diffindo!”_

_A large gash opened down Harry's cheek, continuing downwards, cutting into Harry's chest._

_“Maybe you shouldn't be so easy to annoy, it makes you clumsy,” retorted Harry, flexing his shoulders, the ropes binding his chest to the chair falling apart, “if you weren't, you might've noticed I goaded you into cutting the rope.”_

_Bursting into action, Harry dodged a spell from Lucius’ wand, before dropping low and sweeping the aristocrat’s feet from under him._

_Making a break for the heavy metal doors, Harry reached them, finding them unlocked and yanked them opened._

_“Shit,” sighed Harry at the sight of eight men, each of different ethnicities, all with guns pointed at his chest._

_Taking a deep breath, Harry sighed._

_“Crucio.”_

_Harry dropped to his knees, screaming out with pain, white hot agony._

_Lucius stepped in front of Harry as he released him from the torture, tidying his hair as he did, “do not assume I've rushed into this half-cocked, no, I know exactly what I'm doing.”_

_“You see, this is my revenge,” hissed Lucius. “You did this to me!"_

_“H-How?” wheezed Harry._

_“That day, you handed me that accursed diary,” sneered Lucius, “it infected me, my mind, twisted my body, trying to take me over, but you, you will heal me.”_

_“Why would I do that?”_

_“Who said I was giving you the choice?” retorted Lucius._

_“How did you know about my abilities?” coughed Harry, trying and failing to get up._

_“Simple, I also inherited the power and memories of the diary, I remember what happened in that chamber, that the Dark Lord was the some of a Muggle, that you have a mixture of Basilisk venom and Phoenix tears in your blood.”_

_“He's not dead, V-Voldemort.”_

_“Good, I'll kill the liar myself,” drawled Lucius, before producing a silver octagonal coin, the edges inscribed with runes, “but I can't have you causing me any issues.”_

_Lucius hauled Harry up to his knees and tore his ragged t-shirt open, before pressing the coin to Harry’s left shoulder._

_Harry gave a yell of his shoulder burnt, before it suddenly ceased, his eyes ringing, his vision dulled._

_“What have you done to me?” demanded Harry, looking down to see the coin was now fused to his skin._

_Reaching with his hand, Harry frowned as his arm reacted sluggishly, like it was moving through treacle._

_“That coin is an old runic device, it cuts the victim off from their magic,” taunted Lucius. “Do you know what happens when a wizard is cut of from his magic? His body and mind slows down, because it's been so used to working on magic.”_

_“But don't worry,” drawled Lucius, “you'll still be able to heal yourself, even if you won't be able to summon anymore fancy flames.”_

_“B-Bastard.”_

_Lucius gave a smug smile, “show Mister Potter the full extent of your hospitality, notify me once you've acquired the scientist.”_

_One of the men nodded, two more moving to grab Harry, one taking each arm._

_“Dumbledore, he'll find me!”_

_“No he won't, I've had this cave warded tighter than Gringotts,” sneered Lucius, turning away from Harry, “The old goat could be right outside the door and he wouldn't have a clue.”_

_With that Lucius vanished with a crack, before Harry was dragged away._

 

* * *

 

Raising his hand to his chest, Harry slowly felt the coin, still fused with skin of his left breast.

“Khalid.”

Looking up, Harry was greeted with the sight of Yinsen, holding out a bowl of stew.

“Thanks,” nodded Harry, accepting the bowl, before glancing at Yinsen and Stark's bowls, “I can't take this much.”

“I managed to convince them that we need more rations with a third person, they doubled it,” replied Yinsen, “Your powers drain you massively, besides, you're a teenager.”

Harry looked down at his bowl again, before nodding and filling his spoon up with a mixture of vegetables and a meat he didn't want identified.

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

**_Hogwarts / 28.02.2009_ **

 

Albus Dumbledore felt everyone of his one-hundred and twenty-seven years old.

He should seen the signs, the tatty clothes, the ever so slightly too thin frame, his shy, nervous nature. But he'd been so eager to believe the Dursleys could change for the better he'd doomed a child to an abusive home.

Albus could still remember the day after Voldemort’s demise as if it was yesterday. He'd spent nearly the entire day in the Wizengamot fighting to keep Harry from falling into Lucius Malfoy's hands that he hadn't realised the mistake he was making.

A loud chime disturbed Albus from his thoughts, making him straighten up in his chair.

“Enter,” spoke Albus, watching as his office door swung open to admit five individuals, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody and Arthur Weasley.

Conjuring up chairs in colours matching their house, two red, two green and one yellow, Albus schooled his features, hiding the near overwhelming guilt he felt inside of him.

After Harry’s disappearance in June, Albus had reformed the Order of the Phoenix when it became apparent the Ministry investigation was going nowhere.

“Any news?” queried Albus, stroking Fawkes.

“The Auror office has just officially stopped searching for Harry,” spoke Kingsley, a Senior Auror and the only member of the current Order to not be an original member.

“What now?” asked Minerva, pursing her lips, “what about the investigation?”

“Closed as well,” answered Kingsley, a dark look on his face.

“Someone's paid Fudge off,” muttered Arthur, he and Molly had taken Harry’s disappearance the hardest, feeling as though they had failed him for not noticing, both having assumed the Dursleys’ were short on money like themselves, and were unwilling to take any of Harry’s.

“My money's on Malfoy,” grumbled Moody, magical eye spinning around, constantly scanning the office.

“Malfoy hasn't made any _donations_ in nearly three months,” commented Severus, “however, the Notts made a rather generous _donation_ to Fudge’s re-election fund just last week.”

“I still reckon Malfoy’s behind it,” grunted Moody.

“I've read his mind, he has no occlumency barriers, he didn't do it,” explained Severus, frowning, “besides he was hosting that gala the same day.”

“Nott wasn't at the gala,” stated Kingsley, “pretty notable by his absence actually.”

“Have you found anything in his mind?” questioned Albus, turning to look at Severus.

“He has decent barriers, any attempt to pass them and he'd know,” spoke Severus, “I'd have to brute force my way in.”

“We need to know,” stated Albus.

“I can get a private meeting with him,” answered Severus, “but if he figures out he's been oblivated my cover will be blown.”

“That's a risk we have to take,” assured Albus, watching as Severus agreed with a nod of his head, marvelling at how much Severus’ opinion of Harry had changed since the extent of his abuse had come to light.

“Understood,” responded Severus, pausing for a second. “There is another issue I’d like to raise.”

“Go ahead,” spoke Albus.

“I received a letter from Draco this morning,” informed Severus, “it's the first I've heard from him since August, the strangest thing is that it was sent by muggle post.”

“What did it say?” inquired Albus.

“Very little, just that he was okay,” replied Severus, “and that he's not at Durmstrang like his father is claiming.”

“Very interesting,” mused Albus, “it's wonder what made him decide to run away, perhaps he discovered his father was behind the attacks last year.”

“It is possible,” agreed Severus. “That is assuming he has run away.”

“Seems the kid’s got more balls than I thought it was possible for a Malfoy to have,” chuckled Moody, taking a swig of his hip flask.

“Must you be so crass?” snapped Minerva, “and that better not be firewhiskey in that flask of yours.”

“Damn cat,” grumbled Moody, tucking his flask away.

“What did you mean by ‘assuming he has run away’?” queried Kingsley in a deep baritone voice.

“The letter was postmarked from the South of France, not far from where Malfoy Retreat is,” answered Severus, before clarifying, “where Abraxas is.”

“I see,” pondered Albus, “I was under the impression Abraxas was close to death, Dragon Pox, I do believe.”

“He was, Lucius was paying me to produce the potions for him,” explained Severus, “although, my opinion based on his healers’ notes indicated poison in play, and a rare one at that.”

“Last year, August, I was contacted by Abraxas himself, staying that the potions were no longer needed, along with a tidy sum for my silence, I thought nothing of it, until now,” finished Severus.

“Fascinating,” murmured Albus, “the letter I received yesterday morning certainly makes more sense now. It was a notification of change in status of the Malfoy Family Headship, from Lucius acting ‘in absentia’ to being a proxy.”

“Therefore, I will go to Malfoy Retreat to meet with both the younger and older Mr. Malfoys,” spoke Albus, “Severus, you will interrogate Mr. Nott, Kingsley, do you have any news regarding Sirius Black?”

“Nothing of note, a sighting near Hogsmeade again,” informed Kingsley, “we believe his focus isn't on Harry but Remus Lupin.”

“Maybe he wants to get the full set,” commented Moody, “he betrayed Potter, killed Pettigrew, now he's trying to kill Lupin to finish what he started.”

“Sever the ties to his old life,” added Arthur.

“Albus, there is something I wish to discuss with you,” stated Minerva. “Privately.”

“Very well,” responded Albus, “If you would mi-”

“We get it, we’ll get lost,” interrupted Moody, standing and hobbling to the door, followed by Kingsley, Arthur and Severus.

Once the door had shut, Albus turned to look at Minerva, “What's the problem?”

“Mr. Longbottom, Miss Granger and the youngest Mr. Weasley,” answered Minerva, pursing her lips, “I'm concerned about them.”

“How so?” queried Albus, “to my knowledge the three of them are doing very well in their classes.”

“That's what concerns me,” explained Minerva, “Mr. Weasley for example, has made an incredible improvement in grades from last year, even dropping one of his more useless subject options in a swap for both Ancient Runes and Arithmancy.”

Albus smiled, Minerva’s hatred of Divination never ceased to amaze him, “I don't see how this is a problem.”

“The rate at which they're pushing themselves is potentially harmful,” explained Minerva, “while most of the professors have affirmed they've had to provide fourth-year material for them, they look exhausted, like they're not sleeping.”

Minerva took a deep breath, “that's not the most concerning part. Bathsheba got a glance at a runic circle Miss Granger was examining in class, a piece of the Do'viu Ritual.”

Albus frowned, “The torture ritual.”

 

* * *

 

Hermione entered an unused classroom, pulling sheets of parchment from her bag as she did.

Slamming the parchment sheets down on a desk, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, “I've managed to negate the pain-inducing sections of the runic circle, we're good to go on my end.”

“I'm almost done,” spoke Ron, not looking up from the sheet of calculations and runes in front of him.

Hermione smiled slightly, a year ago Ron would have whined and moaned about having to do work, especially ‘extra-curricular’ work at that.

But Harry's disappearance had hit him hard, harder than most.

The hope that something they could do would help find Harry had spurred him on, lit a fire inside of him she only usually saw when he utter defeated her at chess.

“I've got everything I need,” spoke Neville, as he laid out an array of sprigs and cuttings, before grabbing his mortar and pestle.

While the three of them had been friends with Neville the last two years, they certainly hadn’t been close.

Until now.

Not too far into the year, Neville had discovered what they were doing, both she and Ron thought he’d either try and stop them, or at least tell Professor McGonagall.

But he hadn't. Instead he’d joined them, helping them with both the Herbology and Magical Creatures aspects of the ritual.

Hermione nodded, “good, I'm going to start drawing the circle.”

Grabbing a piece of white chalk, Hermione moved over to the empty space in the center of the classroom and began drawing rune after rune, from Elder Futhark to Dalecarlian.

“Done!” called Ron as joined Hermione at the circle.

“Me too,” answered Hermione, standing up

Taking the chalk from Hermione, Ron knelt down in the center before writing the roman numeral ‘LXV’ at the top on the inside of the circle of runes.

“Which method are you using?” queried Hermione.

“Agrippan,” answered Ron, inscribing ‘II’ at the bottom, ‘III’ on the left and ‘VIII’ on the right. “Just check this for me.”

Ron stood up, holding out a sheet with another runic circle on it, far simpler than Hermione’s, with only one row of runes and entirely in Elder Futhark.

Hermione quickly scanned it, “looks great.”

“What are the numbers for?” asked Neville, joining the two of them, grinding a powder together with a mortar and pestle, a mixture of plants, rock salt and a salamander skull.

“The sixty-five is the true number that represents Harry’s name,” explained Ron, kneeling down to draw the second runic circle in blue chalk. “The two is his simplified character number, the three is his heart number and eight his social number.”

“All it does in this runic array is identify Harry as the subject,” added Hermione, “the outer runic circle is the one from the Do’viu ritual that’s been modified to replace the pain it causes on the subject with a mild cooling charm.”

“The outer circle tracks Harry, then this inner circle is designed to interpret the location onto a map,” finished Ron, finishing the circle and placing a world map in the center as Neville poured a line of the powder around the outside of the runic array.

Hermione, Ron and Neville stepped back to a safe distance.

“Ready?” questioned Hermione.

“To possibly torture our missing friend by accident?” replied Ron, “isn’t that just a normal Tuesday at Hogwarts?”

“Ronald!”

Neville took a deep breath, “I’m sure it will work, it has to.”

“At least someone is positive about this,” spoke Hermione, “Incendio.”

The powder circle burst into flames, the outer runic circle lit up with white light, while the inner circle lit up blue, the roman numerals glowing orange.

“Woah,” murmured Neville.

“It’s working,” grinned Hermione, watching as the map lit up, before an X appeared, the runic array slowly fading away, leaving only a few smudges of chalk behind.

Moving over to the map, Hermione picked it up, “Afghanistan, Harry’s in Afghanistan.”

A knock sounded from the door, grabbing everyone’s attention.

 

* * *

 


	3. Issue #3

_I do not attempt to claim ownership of Marvel Comics or the Harry Potter series._

* * *

**FORGED IN FIRE**

**Issue #3**

**‘History Revisited’**

* * *

 

**_Abandoned Classroom, Hogwarts / 28.02.2009_ **

 

Hermione moved over to the center of the spend runic circle, picking up the map, “Afghanistan, Harry’s in Afghanistan.”

Suddenly a knock sounded from the door.

“That's not good,” commented Ron, turning to look at the door.

“The map,” instructed Hermione, looking to Ron.

“You're holding it.”

Hermione sighed, “the other one!”

Ron frowned for a few seconds, before coming to a realisation, “Ohh!”

Rifling through his robe pockets, Ron drew a large, folded piece of very-worn parchment.

Slamming it down on a desk, Ron unfolded it and drew his wand.

“I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good.”

Ink sprawled out from where Ron's wand touched the parchment, creating a map of Hogwarts, tiny dots with names above them showing the positions of everyone inside the real version.

“How did you get the Marauders’ Map?” asked Neville, “I thought the twins said no.”

Ron gave a wry smile, “what they don't know, won't hurt them.”

“Miss Granger, please open the door.”

“Professor Dumbledore,” murmured Hermione. “That's not too bad right?”

“No it's worse,” replied Ron, looking panicked, “McGonagall, two Aurors and Lucius Malfoy are out there.”

Hermione sighed, “we need to go, now.”

“Why would Malfoy be here?” questioned Ron, frowning.

“He just got reinstated on the Board of Governors, on Fudge's request,” answered Neville nervously, “I got a letter from my Gran telling me this morning.”

“Ron, how long will the ward stay up?” asked Hermione, grabbing papers and books from various desks, shoving them into her bag as she did.

“Mischief managed, Bill said the ward would hold for an hour against a full team of ward-breakers,” answered Ron, folding up the Marauders’ Map and stowing it away in his robes.

“With Professor Dumbledore out there?” questioned Neville nervously.

“I'm not sure, a couple of minutes for the sound-cancelling to fail, five minutes for the rest,” informed Ron, “We don't have much time.”

“The passage,” spoke Hermione, moving to a tapestry, pulling it aside to reveal a blank stone wall.

Drawing her wand, Hermione tapped three bricks in sequence, a deep rumbling echoing as the wall opened up, revealing a gloomy passageway.

“Let's go!”

Ron moved to join Hermione at the mouth of the corridor.

“Neville,” urged Ron, looking back to see him walking to stand directly in front of the door, “We need to get going!”

Neville shook his head, shaking slightly, “I'll stay, buy you time, you need to get the map to the drop-off.”

“We’re not leaving you,” refused Hermione, “Malfoy’ll have you expelled and your wand snapped before you can even explained yourself.”

A loud shattering noise came from the door as the ward started to break down.

“Neville, we lost Harry,” whisper-shouted Ron, the soundproofing ward gone, “We can’t lose you as well.”

Neville stared at the door for a few seconds, before sighing.

Turning and racing to a desk, Neville grabbed his mortar and pestle, flinging the powder inside into the air.

Reaching the passageway, joining Ron and Hermione, Neville drew his wand and took a deep breath.

“Incendio.”

A few sparks issued from Neville’s wand, but they were enough, the powder catching light as the three teens dove into the passageway, closing it behind them.

The explosion set fire to everything around it as the ward finally shattered completely, the door swinging open to reveal Albus and Minerva with their wands raised.

“Aguamenti,” intoned Albus, dousing the flames with a stream of water.

Stepping into the classroom, Albus cast a sequence of detection spells, frowning at the results.

“Where are they?” demanded Lucius as he swept into the classroom, followed by Minerva, Kingsley and Mad-Eye, “I will have them expelled for what they've done.”

Albus turned to face Lucius, “unfortunately, despite your reinstatement as the Chairman of the Governor, the power to expel students lies solely with me.”

“When a student has committed a crime, expulsion is instantaneous, along with the destruction of their wands,” retorted Lucius, hotly.

Albus smiled slightly, “I'm afraid we might have been jumpy, nothing untoward has occurred.”

“And finding the room on fire isn't suspicious. Doesn’t it usually mean that something illegal is been covered up?” snapped Lucius.

“You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Malfoy?” grunted Mad-Eye. “Every time there's a crackdown of dark objects you can find your way to Malfoy Manor by the orange glow on the horizon.”

“I'll have your job for slandering the Head of the Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy,” threatened Lucius, glaring at an unfazed Mad-Eye.

“Proxy Head,” replied Mad-Eye with a grim smile.

Minerva nodded, “it was excellent to hear Abraxas is getting better, when can we expect him to be resuming his full duties?”

Malfoy’s grip on his cane tightened, desperately trying to keep his temper in check.

“The ward was rather complex, one Bathsheba teaches to her seventh-year students,” explained Albus, ignoring the tense nature of the conversation, “when breached, the ward sets fire the area it’s protecting, a burn letter, of sorts.”

Lucius swelled with anger. “The mud-muggleborn was seen with a copy of the runic circle for the Do'viu Ritual.”

“Only researching dark rituals, such as the Do'viu, isn't illegal,” replied Albus, with a calm demeanor, “I believe that particular law was one you were the most ardent supporter of.”

Lucius glared at Albus for a few seconds, before storming out of the classroom.

Mad-Eye chuckled, “Bloody ponce.”

“One with considerably less power than he used to,” added Kingsley.

Minerva cleared her throat and cast a silencing ward, “Albus.”

“Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom performed a modified Do'viu Ritual,” explained Albus, “Quite ingenious how they managed modify the effect to that of a cooling charm.”

Mad-Eye frowned, “Seems like an awful amount of effort for a mild shiver.”

“The cooling charm wasn't the goal,” answered Albus, “A second runic circle, inside the other, piggybacking off the other, translating the location of the target onto a map.”

“Who was the target?” queried Kingsley, “There's far easier ways of locating someone.”

“Not if every other method has failed,” groused Mad-Eye.

Minerva raised her hand to her mouth, “Harry?”

Albus allowed a small smile to form on his lips, “Correct you are, Minerva.”

“We need to get that map of the little buggers,” commented Mad-Eye, turning to leave.

“No,” spoke Albus, halting Mad-Eye.

“Albus, we have to find Harry,” argued Minerva.

“The runic circle of the Do'viu Ritual is a tightly guarded secret, not even Bathsheda has a copy,” replied Albus, “The only person known to have one was Bathsheda's predecessor, before he stepped down to take Malfoy Headship in ‘59.”

Minerva came to a realisation, “Abraxas.”

Albus nodded, “I was going to go to Malfoy Retreat regardless, this just give me all the more reason to do so.”

Giving a silent chuckle, Dumbledore stared at the smudged remains of the runic array, it seemed times truly were changing.

Maybe for the better this time.

 

* * *

 

**_Afghanistan_ **

 

“That’s not a Jericho missile,” commented Yinsen, looking over Tony’s shoulder at a circular device which glowed with blue light.

“Yep, it isn't,” replied Tony, examining his creation, “It's a miniaturised advanced repulsor core, an ARC Reactor, I have a larger one powering a factory in Miami.”

“What's the output?” asked Yinsen.

“If my math is right, which it always is, three gigajoules per second,” answered Tony, continuing to check for flaws.

“That's incredible,” muttered Yinsen. “It could power the electromagnet in your chest for fifty lifetimes.”

Tony smiled, “or something really big for fifteen minutes.”

Yinsen frowned, “something really big?”

Tony smirked, before grabbing a small stack of trace paper from his workstation, laying them over each other and holding them up to the light.

“A suit?”

“It's our ticket out of here,” answered Tony grimly.

“What is this?” mumbled Harry, sluggishly walking over to where Tony had left the ARC Reactor. “It feels like, magic.”

“Harry?” questioned Tony, turning to face the teenager as he reached out towards the ARC Reactor, “what are you doing?”

Harry's hand closed around the ARC Reactor, before its light suddenly flickered a warm orange, Harry's eyes matching.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, massaging his pounding head with his free hand, “Merlin, it feels so good to able to think properly again.”

Tony looked on in utter shock, “Wait, what the hell was that glow eye stuff, and Merlin? Are you a witch or something?”

Harry glanced at Tony, “A wizard actually, women are witches, and that was magic.”

“Magic isn't real,” denied Yinsen, “It's scientifically impossible.”

“What about this?” queried Harry, holding up his free hand, a ball of flames hovering above his open palm.

“Woah,” breathed Tony.

Harry looked to Tony, “Did you design this?”

“I didn't, I just miniaturised my father's design,” explained Tony, frowning.

“Then someone with magic helped him,” stated Harry, turning the reactor over, “I can feel it drawing magic out of the air, I'd forgotten what it felt like.”

Harry smiled, “It feels like a wand, in fact.”

Turning, Harry pointed the arc reactor at the far wall.

“Flipendo!”

Both Tony and Yinsen looked on in shock as a beam of blue light shot out of the reactor, detonating on impact with the wall.

“I believe in magic,” spoke Tony quickly, his mind buzzing with ideas.

Yinsen's expression darkened, “If magic truly is real, then that explains why I can't find any genetic markers that explain your healing abilities, it's something else.”

Harry turned to face the others, “Looks like I need to do some explaining.”

 

* * *

 

**_Hogwarts Grounds_ **

 

Ron, Hermione and Neville raced across the courtyard towards the footbridge that crossed the gorge.

“Who’s that?” questioned Hermione as the three of them came to a halt at the start of the footbridge.

The hooded figure stood in the middle of the footbridge slowly turned around, revealing an executioner's hood and a large axe, dripping with blood.

“Walden Macnair,” answered Ron. “He’s really bad news, one of the Death Eaters from the war, claimed Imperius after You-Know-Who was defeated.”

“He’s an Executioner for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures,” added Neville, “Loves killing, he used to behead muggles and send their heads back to their families, usually defiled.”

Hermione’s face twisted into one of disgust, “what are we going to do?”

“Naughty, naughty children!” called Macnair, raising his axe, “doing things you shouldn’t do, going places you shouldn’t go, looks like you need to be cut, down, to size.”

“This guy’s giving me a definite case of the creeps,” commented Ron, drawing his wand.

“There’s no way the three of us can handle him,” stated Hermione, looking uncertain.

Ron looked over to Neville, who nodded slightly, before drawing the Marauders’ Map, “Hermione, go, take the long way round, we’ll handle Macnair.”

Hermione shook her head. “You’re a couple of third-years, how can you hope to beat him?”

“We’re not going to beat him, we’re going to keep him distracted,” stated Neville, drawing his father’s wand, gripping it tightly as he tried to keep himself calm.

Hermione looked at Ron and Neville for a few seconds each, before nodding and taking the Marauders’ Map.

“Don’t forget to make sure Barghest gets the secondary package,” urged Ron, looking at Hermione, “Now, go!”

Ron and Neville stepped forwards as Hermione turned and raced away, staring Macnair down.

“Why are you doing this? On the Hogwarts grounds? With Dumbledore so close?” questioned Ron, “I thought you Death Eaters were all about pretending to not be awful people?”

“The Dark Lord has returned, more powerful and great than before!” exclaimed Macnair, his eyes alight. “The time to step into the light and claim our birthrights has come.”

“Okay, he's gone full crazy,” sighed Ron.

“Ron, did you grab anything else of the twins’s?” queried Neville, his eyes not leaving the blood-stained axe.

Ron nodded, “yeah, I did.”

Leaning forwards, Ron released a heavy ball from his grip, watching as it rolled along the bridge.

Frowning, Macnair looked down, his eyes widening at the lit fuse.

The ball exploded in an array of Dr Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, lighting Macnair up.

“Glacius,” called Ron, aiming his wand at the floor under Macnair's feet.

Before Macnair's vision could return to normal, he found himself struggling to stay upright on the slippery surface.

Neville raised his wand to point at a struggling Macnair, hoping his spell would work.

“Flipendo!”

A bolt of blue light shot at Macnair, striking him in the shoulder, causing him to stumble and slip over.

“Volate Ascendare!” exclaimed Ron.

A red spell hit Macnair, his body rocketing up, through the wooden footbridge roof, before slamming down again.

“Immobulus!” roared Macnair as his dragged himself to his feet, mask half blown off, freezing both Ron and Neville in place.

Firing a silent Redutor, a blue spell hit a frozen Neville, sending him flying backwards, his wand falling from his grip.

Leaving Ron trapped in place, Macnair stalked towards Neville, raising his axe.

Neville's eyes widened, as he only just managed to roll out of the way of Macnair's axe.

Scrambling backwards, Neville desperately reaching for his father's wand, only to watch in despair as Macnair's axe came down again and cleaved it in half, narrowly missing his fingers.

“No,” groaned Neville, in horror.

Macnair grinned and slammed Neville in the face with the blunt end of his axe, before driving his booted foot down on to Neville's ribs.

Crying out at a series of cracks, Neville felt his ribs give way.

“I'd say to enjoy meeting your parents in the afterlife once I’ve killed you,” gloated Macnair, raising his axe again, “But what we did to them was much more fun than that, I especially had some fun with your dear old mum.”

“You’re lying!” grunted Neville.

Macnair’s face twisted into a smug grin, “Oh no, I’m not, did you think Bella, Barty  and the Lestranges were the only ones there that night? They were the only ones dumb enough to get caught.”

Macnair moved to swing his axe down at Neville, only to find his hands empty.

Frowning, Macnair looked up, his eyes widening at the sight of his axe hovering above him.

Neville looked up to see Ron stood behind Macnair, wand aimed at the axe.

Ron gave a grim smile, “Looks like it’s time to bury the hatchet.”

Releasing the spell, the axe fell directly down, slicing into the shoulder of Macnair’s wand arm, and burying itself deep.

Screaming out in pain, Macnair fell onto his back, his wand rolling away and off the edge of the footbridge.

“Petrificus Totalus,” intoned Ron, locking Macnair in place, cutting off his screams, before he moved over to help Neville to his feet, “you okay?”

“I’ll live,” answered Neville, allowing Ron to pull his arm around the other boy’s shoulder, supporting him, “I just hope Hermione managed to make it.”

 

* * *

 

**_Shrieking Shack_ **

 

Moving up the stairs with her wand drawn, Hermione entered the master bedroom, jumping slightly at the sight of large grim sat in the middle of the room.

“You nearly gave me a heart-attack,” chided Hermione, “Are you Berghest?”

The grim cocked his head to one side, before suddenly moving forwards and morphing to a man in his thirties, with long, black, curly hair, a slightly pinched face and sunken eyes.

The man sighed, “I have no idea why _Ignis_ decided I needed a codename. Sirius Black, at your service.”

“The mass murderer?” queried Hermione, with a knowing smile.

“Maybe just call me Padfoot,” spoke Sirius quickly.

“Like the map?”

“You’ve got the map? How?”

Hermione shrugged, “the Weasley Twins stole it from Filch in their first year. You made it?”

Sirius shrugged. “With Harry’s dad, Remus and the traitor. Keep it.”

Hermione nodded, “speaking of traitors.”

Moving over to the corner of the bedroom, Hermione pulled a cloth away to reveal a cage, containing a rat missing one of the toes on its front right paw.

Sirius grinned, “long time, no see, Wormtail.”

The rat scratched at the cage bars desperately, squeaking continuously.

“The cage is indestructible and charmed so he can’t change back,” informed Hermione, holding out the map from the ritual.

Sirius glared at the rat, he so wanted to kill it now, but he couldn’t, if he did, he could never clear his name and help Harry properly.

“Sirius.”

Snapping out of his trance, Sirius took the map from Hermione, “thanks, we’ll take it from here.”

Nodding at Hermione, Sirius grabbed the cage and headed down the stairs, quickly exiting the shack, making his way towards the edge of the anti-disapparition jinx.

“Put your hands up, Black!”

Sirius sighed and slowly turned around to see Remus Lupin with his wand aimed at him.

“I thought I saw your animagus form this morning, Harry’s missing, he isn’t here,” snapped Remus, “You can’t finish the job and kill him as well.”

“I’m not trying to kill him, I’m trying to find him. I never betrayed Lily and James, we switched Secret-Keepers.”

Remus prowled towards Sirius, “Liar!”

Sirius sighed and raised the cage holding the rat, “Will this change your mind?”

 

* * *

 

**_Afghanistan_ **

 

Harry hissed in pain as Yinsen examined the runic coin fused to Harry's skin.

Yinsen frowned, “so this is why you've always refused to let me treat any wound on your torso?”

Harry nodded.

Tony leaned against a workstation, “So do you guys have flying broomsticks?”

“Yep, and a sport for them.”

“Potions?”

“Least favourite subject.”

“Merlin?”

“Totally real.”

“Black Magic?”

“Dark Magic, and kinda illegal.”

“Teleportation?”

“I think so?”

“Virgin sacrifice?”

“Merlin, I hope not.”

“So, this coin is dampening your magic,” spoke Tony, “And it works with a, runic circle, right?”

“Yeah,” agreed Harry, “Lucius Malfoy fused it to my skin to stop me from escaping and dull my mind over a prolonged period without access to my magic.”

Yinsen turned back to Harry, holding a scalpel, “has the anesthetic taken?”

Harry nodded, preparing himself as Yinsen cleaned his shoulder with a wipe and beginning to slice into Harry's skin.

Harry couldn't help but look down, watching as Yinsen cut a circle in the skin around the runic coin.

“Be warned, this is going to hurt, a lot.”

Harry gritted himself, steadying himself, before nodding slightly.

Carefully, Yinsen peeled the severed skin away from Harry's shoulder.

Harry grunted with pain, stopping himself from yelling, before clamping his hand to the wound.

“Did it work?” asked Tony, after a minute of silence had elapsed.

Harry moved his hand away, revealing the wound had healed, however, the runic coin had also returned, the removed patch of skin crumbling into ash.

“Damn it,” sighed Harry, glaring at the runic coin.

Harry's scar suddenly lit up with pain as flashes of memories came to him.

“I remember, creating this coin, but it wasn't me,” frowned Harry, confused, “I was learning basic runes before I was captured, but now, my knowledge is something else.”

Harry suddenly grinned, “I know exactly what to do.”

Reaching out with one hand, Harry placed it on Tony's ARC Reactor, now located in the billionaire's chest, keeping him alive.

Raising his other hand, Harry moved it to over the runic coin as his palm glowed with orange light.

An orange projection of the runic circle on the coin appeared in front of Harry's hand, before he rotated his wrist, the runes suddenly shifted and switched.

Stopping the movement of his hand, Harry examined the runic circle before nodding with satisfaction and moving it to touch the coin.

Grunting, Harry watched as the runic coin lit up with an orange glow as the runes changed to match the projection.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry sank back into his chair.

“What did you do?” questioned Yinsen.

“I'm not exactly sure how I knew how to do it, but I altered the runic circle,” answered Harry, “Instead of dampening my magic, it's now enhancing it, not sure when the effect of that's gonna kick i-”

Harry collapsed forwards to onto all fours, his eyes on fire, flames engulfing his hands and spreading up his arms.

Standing, Harry felt his body shift and change, becoming taller, stronger, faster, all while the flames continued to spread, eventually covering his entire body, leaving his clothes untouched.

“Woah.”

 

* * *

 


	4. Issue #4

_I do not attempt to claim ownership of Marvel Comics or the Harry Potter series._

* * *

**FORGED IN FIRE**

**Issue #4**

' **Just Waiting For The Hammer To Fall'**

* * *

 

_**Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts / 08.03.2009** _

 

Albus looked up as a knock sounded on his office door. "Come in, Severus."

The door opened and Severus strode in, his cloak billowing behind him, his face betraying his anger.

Taking a seat in Albus' conjured armchair, all the while pausing to sneer at the white and purple polka dot pattern, Severus spoke, "Nott knows nothing, Lucius Malfoy gave him the money to donate."

Albus frowned. "So Nott is a red herring, it seems Mr Malfoy is the one responsible."

"That's not possible, Lucius had no Occlumency barriers," replied Severus. "He's never had."

"This is most troubling," sighed Albus. "I've only ever met a few people who were able to flawlessly hide their Occlumency barriers and present a false mind."

"The Dark Lord," murmured Severus, before pausing, "could he be aiding Lucius?"

"No," denied Albus. "If Voldemort was behind this a campaign of terror and muggle killings would already have started, not political subterfuge."

"Someone else then, Grindelwald perhaps?"

"Unlikely, he has no wand and is under a 24-hour watch," replied Albus. "This is most troubling."

"So you've already said."

Another knock echoed from the door, making Albus look up from his contemplation.

"It seems the time for the trial has come," spoke Albus, "Severus, it you wouldn't mind."

"I'll leave," responded Severus, standing and turning to walk to the door.

Pulling the door open, Severus found himself looking down at Neville Longbottom.

"Mr Longbottom," drawled Severus, before sweeping past Neville, silently noting a lack of the usual fear in the boy's eyes.

"Please enter."

Stepping into the office, Neville looked all around him, from the grand bookcase filled with arcane knowledge to desks filled with bizarre trinkets to a stand behind Dumbledore on which a majestic orange and red phoenix preened itself.

"Professor Dumbledore," greeted Neville, taking a seat in the offered armchair. "Aren't we going to leave for the trial?"

Albus steepled his fingers. "That we will, however, I feel there is a conversation we must have before them."

"Sir, I am fine, Madam Pomfrey healed me right up," answered Neville.

"I am glad to hear you are healed, however this is not what I wish to discuss," explained Albus. "This is something I was going to tell Harry in a few years, however, recent events have made it clear that you deserve to know."

Neville frowned, "About what?"

"A prophecy," answered Albus, "made a few months before your birth."

"It told of a child, one that would be born at the end of July, to parents who had defied the Dark Lord thrice before," continued Albus. "It said that the child who be marked as the Dark Lord's equal, and would be the one to stop him."

"There's a prophecy about Harry?" realised Neville.

Albus shook his head. "Not just Harry, it also could have applied to you as well, and still might."

"Still might?"

"Prophecies are notoriously difficult to interpret, acting to avoid the outcome of them could lead to their fulfillment," explained Albus. "Harry could have fulfilled the prophecy that night in 1981, or he might not have."

Neville looked up at Albus. "You said that You-Know-Who would mark them as his equal, he marked Harry, the scar."

"I never said that the Dark Lord of the prophecy was Voldemort."

Neville flinched. "There could be another one?"

Albus leaned back in his chair. "Unfortunately, it is possible that there is, and it is possible that there isn't."

Neville looked down at his hands, before taking a deep breath. "Train me, Professor Dumbledore."

Albus shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "It's been a very long time since I trained someone."

Pausing, Albus stared down at Neville, seeing a new confidence within him. "You have your mother's eyes."

"Is that a yes?"

Albus gave a ghost of a smile. "Yes it is."

Fawkes gave a cry, lifting off from the perch and swooping around the room, before landing on Neville's shoulder.

Flapping his wings, Fawkes reached his head and closed his beak around one of his feathers, pulling it clean from his wing.

With another cry, Fawkes dropped the feather onto Neville's lap and flew back to his perch.

Slowly picking the feather up, Neville stared at it in shock, "Professor?"

Albus smiled. "A rare honour, perhaps it would make a suitable replacement for your father's wand?"

Conjuring a long, black box, Albus handed it to Neville before standing, "I feel it is time for us to leave for the Ministry, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger will be using Professor McGonagall's floo."

 

* * *

 

_**Courtroom Ten, Ministry of Magic** _

 

A gavel banged down, silencing the din of of whispers.

"The trial of Walden Macnair for the crimes of one count of actual bodily harm, one count of grievous bodily harm with the intent to kill and one count of attempted murder will now commence," called Minister Fudge, sat in the judge's podium. "How does the defendant plead?"

On the lower section of the Courtroom, next to where chains held Macnair in his chair, a lawyer with slicked back hair stood up, walking forwards.

"My client pleads not guilty, and hopes this misunderstanding can be cleared up promptly," stated the lawyer, with a smug grin.

A loud series of shouts and boos came from both the public stands and the Wizengamot.

Neville watched on from the public stands, his Gran on one side, his Uncle Algie on the other, the three of them sat far from where Ron, Hermione and Ron's parents were sat, at his Gran's insistence of course.

"Order!"

Fudge banged the gavel down again.

"Does the defendant permit the use of Veritaserum?" questioned Fudge, the answer was a forgone conclusion.

"No, my client insists that he does not want to be treated like a common criminal," smirked the lawyer, looking confident.

"Death Eater scum!" came a shout from the public stands.

In the Wizengamot stand Lucius Malfoy rose to his feet.

From his position at the side of the Courtroom, in the podium for the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Albus watched the Proxy Head of the Malfoy Family walk to one of the podiums that allowed Wizengamot members to comment or raise a motion.

"The floor recognises Lucius Malfoy, Proxy Head of the Malfoy Family," announced Albus, gesturing to Lucius.

"I would like to raise the motion to clear my good friend, Walden Macnair, of all charges," spoke Lucius. "To prevent any miscarriages of justice."

A new wave of shouts and jeers erupted, while Macnair turned his head to look at Neville directly in the eyes, licking his lips.

Neville flinched, aggravating his still tender ribs.

Augusta Longbottom sniffed in disgust, "Neville, we're leaving."

"I'm not going," replied Neville instantly, his eyes not leaving Macnair's.

Looking down at her grandson, Augusta was surprised to see a new strength in Neville's eyes, one she'd seen before, not in his father, but his mother.

"I understand," nodded Augusta, sitting back down.

Fudge banged the gavel again, restoring order.

"Motion recognised."

Edwin Nott rose to his feet, "Motion seconded."

Albus spoke again, "A vote."

After a brief flurry of whispers, the Wizengamot members voted, those voting in favour of the motion raising their wands and producing a green light, red light for those voting against the motion and grey for those who abstained.

Albus counted the sea of wands with mounting disappointment, "Motion carried."

The public stands deflated, perhaps they'd already guessed the outcome, eerily reminiscent of the Death Eater trials thirteen years before.

Fudge raised his gavel, but paused before he could bring it down.

"Motion denied," stated Fudge, exercising his right to veto a motion, prompting a bout of cheers to erupt from the public stands.

From the podium for the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones stood, "Minister Fudge, I have signed order for Veritaserum to be used on the defendant without his consent due the reopening of historical cases."

"Recognised, administer the Veritaserum," instructed Fudge, a fire in his eyes, he could turn a blind eye to many things, but attempting to murder children was something he would not allow to go unpunished.

The lawyer looked up at Fudge, his smug facade cracking under pressure, "Minister Fudge, my client does not want-"

"I don't care what your client wants, serious allegations like these cannot go uninvestigated," interrupted Fudge, watching as an Auror administered the Veritaserum.

"Now, for the purposes of ensuring the Veritaserum has been effective, I would like to ask, what is your full name?"

Macnair looked up at Fudge with glazed eyes, "Walden Ingrid Macnair."

"Excellent, where were you during the hours of 5pm and 6pm on the 28th of February 2009?"

"Hogwarts."

"Why?"

"To kill the brats, Potter's friends."

An audible gasp could be heard.

"Was this all your idea?"

"No, I was instructed to do so."

"By whom?"

"The Dark Lord."

Another gasp, a few screams this time.

Fudge paled, "Did you see his face?"

"No."

"Can you be sure it was him?"

"No, I wanted it to be, I've missed killing muggles since his demise."

More screams this time, angry ones.

"Walden Macnair, are you guilty of the actual bodily harm of Ronald Weasley and the grievous bodily harm with the intent to kill and the attempted murder of Neville Longbottom, Heir of the Longbottom Family?"

"Yes."

More shouts.

"Walden Macnair, I sentence you to life without chance of parole in Azkaban."

Lucius Malfoy sighed in his seat, at least Macnair hadn't given him up, his disguise had worked at least, Macnair had truly believed he was the Dark Lord.

Amelia Bones stood again. "We would like to question Macnair further, to do with possible connections to past crimes."

Fudge glared at Macnair. "Have at it."

"Macnair, are you responsible for the murder of Enid Bell?"

"Yes."

"The assault of Theodore Tonks?"

"Yes."

"Were you involved in the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom?"

"Yes."

Amelia paused. "The murder of Edgar Bones?"

"Yes."

"The murder of Fabian and Gideon Prewett?"

"No."

"The rape and murder of Marlene McKinnon?"

"Yes."

From the public stands, Sirius Black stood up and quickly left, Remus Lupin close behind.

Exiting the courtroom, Sirius rested his head against the wall, "of course it would be him, the bastard, I should kill him."

Remus approached Sirius, "I've only just got you back, cleared of all charges, I'd prefer that you stay out of Azkaban for a while."

Sirius sighed. "You're right, they'd probably stick me in a cell next to Wormtail, damn traitor."

"We can go leave some flowers for Marlene after this secret meeting you're taking me to," offered Remus.

Sirius nodded, and moved off, Remus behind him.

 

* * *

 

_**Afghanistan** _

 

"Yep, just like that, just be careful not to burn yourself," instructed Tony, watching as Harry carefully soldered wires to where Tony had told him to.

Finishing, Harry looked over to Tony. "How's that?"

Examining the wires, Tony smiled and gave a nod, "looks good, we'll make an engineer of you yet."

Grabbing the device Harry been working on off the workstation, Tony closed the panel and quickly tightened the screws.

"It's finished."

"Nice," muttered Harry, taking the silver metal gauntlet from Tony as he offered it to him, in the palm was an ARC reactor, smaller than the one implanted in Tony's chest.

"Try it out," urged Tony.

Ever since Harry had been able to use magic again he'd changed dramatically, going from nearly comatose to much more lively, but Tony could still tell was still deep sadness within him.

It was like looking in a mirror.

Slipping his hand into the glove, Harry watched as the cool blue light of the ARC reactor changed to a warm orange.

"Wingardium Leviosa," chanted Harry, aiming the palm of the glove at a mug.

Jerking his hand upwards the mug shot into the air, smashing on impact with the cave ceiling, "Hm, I may need a bit more practice."

"And that glove only has a third of the power my arc reactor has," commented Tony, "Imagine what the suit will be able to do."

"How's that going?" asked Harry, stowing the glove away under his camp bed.

"The wiring in the arms and legs is all done, the outer metal casing for the entire suit, bar the helmet, has been forged," explained Tony, "Another two weeks to build the suit, but I'm nowhere near on the coding."

"Last time you showed me the code, I understood, like, twelve percent of it," muttered Harry.

"A month, tops," assured Tony, "Maybe, I hope, you know what, let's call it two."

Harry sighed, slumping down on his camp bed, "Great."

"I swear it will get all three of us-" started Tony, stopping once he heard snores, "And you're asleep."

"This makes no sense," spoke Yinsen, looking up from his workstation, "Magic shouldn't exist."

"So you're saying what he did wasn't magic," replied Tony, joining him, "He literally transformed a plate into a bird, do you know how many laws of physics that defies?"

"That's the problem," replied Yinsen calmly, "That range of abilities, his genetic code wouldn't be able to cope, it would unravel, there has to be something else.

"That's because he's manipulating, this energy force, all around us," argued Tony, "I spent years trying to figure out how the ARC reactor worked, now I know!"

"That could be it," nodded Yinsen, "I just want to make sure his abilities aren't going to negatively impact him further down the line."

Shuffling slightly in his bed, Harry smiled. For the first time in a long time he had people who really cared about him.

 

* * *

 

_**Ollivander's, Diagon Alley** _

 

Augusta pushed the door open, her eyes passing over the display wand sat on the faded cushion in the window, entering the show, Neville in tow.

"Ah, Augusta, 10½", Dragon Heart-string, laurel, unyielding," greeted Ollivander from the top of his ladder. "Any issues?"

"None, thank you."

Neville looked around the shop, boxes and boxes of wands piled up to the ceiling, a thin layer of dust everywhere.

"Mr Longbottom, you're late," spoke Ollivander, making Neville jump when he realised Ollivander was now stood in front of him, examining him intently, all without seeming to have moved.

"Late?" questioned Neville, frowning.

"I was expecting you two and a half years ago," replied Ollivander, suddenly staring off into the distance. "To get your wand."

Augusta cleared her throat, "Neville has been using his father's wand, one that served him well as an Auror-"

"The wand chooses the wizard," stated Ollivander firmly, focusing on Augusta. "That, is the first rule of wand-making."

Neville suppressed a laugh as his Gran made a noise of clear annoyance, sounding life a chicken being sat on by Hagrid.

"We're not here to get Neville a new wand, we're here to get Frank's repaired," snapped Augusta, drawing the two broken halves and placing them on the counter, "Neville was rather careless with it."

Ollivander stared down Augusta with an uncharacteristic hardness in his eyes, "I cannot, in good conscious, allow a child to learn magic with a wand so thoroughly ill-suited to them."

"It suited Frank just fine."

"The young Mr Longbottom is not his father," stated Ollivander. "I will only repair this wand if you'd allow me to find a wand for your grandson."

Augusta glared at Ollivander for a few seconds, as if sizing him up, before speaking, "Fine."

"I can repair the wand, 11¼", Thunderbird tail feather, Ebony, excellent for transfiguration, a fine wand, one of my first," spoke Ollivander, returning to his more carefree attitude. "Newt Scamander gave me a number of Thunderbird tail feathers in my youth, one of the wonderful aspects about them is their ability to knit back together, stronger than before."

Augusta nodded, "Excellent."

Ollivander approached Neville, examining him, "Mr Longbottom, I sense you have something for me, something to use to craft you a new wand."

Neville nodded, before producing the black box, opening it to reveal the Phoenix feather.

"Ah, wonderful," smiled Ollivander, taking the feather. "Fascinating, how fascinating."

"What's fascinating?" questioned Augusta.

"I remember every wand I've ever made," replied Ollivander, examining the feather. "This is a feather from Albus Dumbledore's phoenix, a phoenix who has given two feathers before, one resides in the wand of Harry Potter, the other, the one who gave him his scar."

Neville paled. "You-Know-Who's wand."

Augusta sniffed, "Neville will not be having a wand with the same core as Voldemort."

Neville shook his head, "No, I want to use the Phoenix feather, I need to."

Augusta examined Neville, again seeing his mother's strength in his eyes.

Pursing her lips, Augusta sighed, "Very well."

Ollivander moved over to Neville, drawing his wand and casting a sequence of non-verbal spells.

"Hmm, 12" should be about right," muttered Ollivander, before moving over to the counter and producing a tray of wood samples from below, "Here try this, Mahogany."

Neville picked up the wood sample, turning it over in his hands.

"Do feel anything?"

Neville shook his head, "Nothing."

"Here, try Ash."

"Nope."

"Holly?"

Neville shook his head.

"Cherry?"

Neville frowned, "I feel something, not much."

"Hmm, I wonder," murmured Ollivander, "What is your best subject?"

"Herbology."

"Here, try this."

Neville took the sample, feeling a strange warm sensation covering his palm, "This, I can feel it."

"Cherry root," spoke Ollivander, "excellent for Herbomancy, very uncommon, curious, how curious."

 

* * *

 

_**Malfoy Retreat, Southern France** _

 

Remus looked around, "are we where I think I am?"

"Yep," nodded Sirius, pushing the doors open to reveal the drawing room, inside was Abraxas Malfoy and a cloaked figure.

"I thought you were nearly dead," spoke Remus as he shook Abraxas' hand.

"Lucius had me on the ropes for awhile as after he discovered I spied for the Order during the war," answered Abraxas. "You can thank our friend here for my recovery."

"And who are you?" questioned Remus, approaching the cloaked figure.

"Hello, Moony," chuckled the figure as they pulled their hood back.

Remus stared at the figure's face. "That's not possible."

 

* * *

 


	5. Issue #5

_I do not attempt to claim ownership of Marvel Comics or the Harry Potter series._

* * *

**FORGED IN FIRE**

**Issue #5**

' **I Don't Want to Set the World On Fire'**

* * *

 

_**Malfoy Retreat, Southern France / 30.04.2009** _

 

Eight months.

Eight, miserable, grueling months Draco had spend at Malfoy Retreat.

When he'd first arrived at the start of September, Draco had been giddy with excitement, not that he'd ever admit such a thing out loud.

He'd believed that he would live a life of luxury, learning the arcane arts from his renounce grandfather, all without have to deal with the stink of the 'Mudbloods' at Hogwarts.

Draco had made the mistake of saying as such on his first day. His grandfather had immediately forced him into duel-after-duel for three and a half hours, wiping the floor with him.

His grandfather had continued to do it again anytime he said anything disparaging against muggles or muggle-borns. Draco had quickly learnt to keep those thoughts to himself.

For months, Abraxas had pushed him harder and harder, teaching him new charm, curses, jinxes and potions one after another, then forcing him to demonstrate them to him in duels.

At first Draco had been useless, a cocky, arrogant, spoiled brat, but he began to change, learning the true responsibility behind wealth and power.

But he'd slipped up, cut his finger preparing a potion and released a tirade of anger, using the very words and sentiments his grandfather had punished him for.

Draco had believed it was over then, that his grandfather would send him home, banish him, but instead he found himself apparated up a freezing mountain and left there, without even his wand.

Battered and buffeted by the cold, Draco had stumbled into a small Swedish village, half-dead.

Instead of being the cruel savages Draco had always been told they were, they had immediately taken him in, treated him, given him clothes and a place to stay.

That was where Draco had spent his Christmas.

He'd been rude and arrogant towards the people of the village at first, something that the townsfolk seemed to ignore, the charm of the place and the people eventually winning Draco over.

He still had no idea why they'd given him that weird nickname though.

What was a 'Grinch' anyway?

His grandfather had come to pick him up after New Years, taking him a few miles west of the town, to an area known as Signhildsberg.

 

* * *

 

_Draco trudged through the woods, following his grandfather without complaint or question, he knew better than to._

" _Do you know where we are?" asked Abraxas, strolling through the deep snow with ease._

" _Sweden."_

_Draco winced at the mild stinging charm his grandfather fired at him._

" _Where exactly in Sweden?"_

_Draco sighed. "The village I ended up in was Sigtuna, and we've been heading west, so we must be nearing Signhildsberg."_

" _Correct," replied Abraxas. "Also known as Old Sigtuna, the site where the stories of Norse mythology took place."_

" _You mean those stories, are real?" questioned Draco as they continued to walk._

" _As real as Merlin or Zeus," answered Abraxas off-handily._

" _So Thor, Odin, Loki, they were wizards?"_

" _Of a kind," replied Abraxas as they entered a clearing._

" _Where are we?" asked Draco as they came to a halt._

" _Malfoy land, it's been in the family since before our branch emigrated to France in the 990s, those who remained eventually died off," explained Abraxas, flicking a wand to dissipate a cloaking ward._

_Draco's mouth dropped open as the clearing changed, revealing a strange runic circle burnt into the ground, a large wooden stump in the center, a worn and rusted sword protruding from it._

" _An old sword?"_

_Abraxas sighed. "A sword that's been in our family since the days of Norse heroes, used by select members of the Malfoy Family over the centuries."_

" _Have you?" queried Draco. "Used it?"_

_Abraxas stared at the sword, "a very long time ago, just after I graduated from Hogwarts, right when the war with Grindelwald reached its worse."_

" _You fought in the Second Great War? You never mentioned it."_

" _My involvement was kept a secret," explained Abraxas, "I was one of few wizards allowed to fight alongside muggles."_

" _You fought with muggles?" questioned Draco, looking mildly repulsed at the thought. "Wouldn't that have broken the Statue of Secrecy?"_

_Abraxas frowned. "The Second Great War was a dark time, Hitler and Grindelwald working together, HYDRA messing with Tesseract. The Confederation of Allied Magical Nations, formed after ICW broke down, funded and authorised the use of select wizards and magical items to be used."_

" _Right, enough flapping gums," groused Abraxas. "Grab the sword."_

_Frowning, Draco approached the stump, gripping the decaying leather of the hilt and pulling, finding resistance. "How is a moldy old sword going to hel-"_

_The sword suddenly released, green light glowing from the slot in the stump._

_Holding up the sword, Draco watched as the rust fell away to reveal a gleaming silver sword below, emerald embedded into the hilt. "What the…"_

_Abraxas shot another stinging charm at Draco. "Moldy old sword, bloody cheek."_

 

* * *

 

"Stop standing around, get back to training!"

Draco looked up to see his grandfather striding down the stairs into the training room, located in the basement of Malfoy Retreat.

Sighing, Draco raised his sword, practicing the swings and parries Abraxas had taught him.

Abraxas reached Draco, "slacking again? The mission is tomorrow, you'd better be ready for it."

"Can't wait to go and save Potter's arse," retorted Draco.

"Are you interested in the rest of Potter?" questioned Abraxas. "Or just his backside?"

"You know what I mean," retorted Draco, sheathing his sword.

"Sure I did."

A pop sounded as Luxin apparated into existence, holding a long, thin black box.

"Luxin is returning with the good news."

Abraxas turned, a smile forming at the sight of the box. "You found it."

"Yes, Luxin is finding your missing wand," nodded the house elf excitedly, presenting it to Abraxas.

Taking the box, Abraxas looked down to Luxin. "So, where did Lucius dump it?"

"Bad Master was giving it to a magical orphanage in Peru," explained Luxin, "We's is fortunate that they's realising your wand is so valuable and keepings it safe."

"I take it you generously reimbursed they for it?" queried Abraxas.

"Luxin is paying them double the worth of Master Abraxas' wand."

"Excellent," drawled Abraxas, opening the case and drawing an long, olive green wand. "Pistachio, 15½", Griffin feather core, one of last Wells Ollivander made before he passed the shop onto his son."

 

* * *

 

_**Afghanistan / 01.05.2009** _

 

Harry stared in the cracked and mottled mirror, seeing a foreign face staring back at him.

His need for glasses was gone, leaving his eyes unobscured by damaged, unflattering frames, a stronger jawline, flecks of red hair reminiscent of his mother's appearing more and more every day and, most importantly, his accursed scar had faded to a thin pink lightning bolt.

Brushing his fingers across his scar, Harry sighed.

Everything had been fine for the first couple of weeks after Harry had restored his magic, until the nightmares started, dreams of another life, the life of Voldemort.

His childhood, his Hogwarts years, working at Borgin and Burkes, travelling around the world, gaining knowledge, before returning to Magical Britain to start his conquest, the prophecy, then Harry saw…

The murder of his parents.

He saw it every night, when he tried to sleep.

At least the insomnia gave him plenty of time to think, to unpack the knowledge, skills and spells he absorbed from the soul fragment of Voldemort that had resided within his scar.

But the Horcrux was long gone, broken down and integrated into his soul, mind, body and magic.

Harry shivered, pulling his fur-lined bomber jacket tighter around himself. Ever since he'd restored his magic his body had been running several degrees Celsius hotter than normal, making the already cold cave feel freezing to him.

Turning away from the mirror, Harry moved to behind the screen that blocked the cameras' view, marvelling at the sight of the armor Stark had constructed, hastily welded and riveted together, design notes scribbled all over it.

The armor that would help them to escape in just a few hours.

 

* * *

 

_**Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan** _

 

Lt. Colonel James Rhodes looked up into the morning sky and sighed.

Three months.

Three months of being told not to search an arid, inhospitable desert, for a man everyone else had given up on as dead.

"You're really going back there, aren't you?" questioned Major General William Gabriel as he walked alongside Rhodey.

"This is something I have to do," replied Rhodey.

"Three months without a sign Stark is alive," refuted General Gabriel. "We can't just keep risking assets on a wild goose chase, least of all you."

"You're blocking my transfer now?" queried Rhodey, stopping in his tracks.

General Gabriel sighed and looked around. "You know, any one of these guys would walk through fire to have your career. Are you going to risk that to go flying around with a bunch of snake eaters on the off chance you find your friend in the middle of a desert?"

"I am, sir," replied Rhodey. "He'd do the same for me."

"Then I only have one thing to say to you, Colonel," spoke General Gabriel, before sighing. "Godspeed."

Rhodey nodded, saluting General Gabriel as he turned and walked away.

"I'm gonna find you Tony," stated Rhodey, fire in his eyes.

 

* * *

 

_**Afghanistan** _

 

A crack sounded as Abraxas and Draco appeared out of thin air, the former quickly casting a sequence of disillusionment and silencing charms on both himself and his grandson.

Draco leaned out the sun drenched tent, looking in every direction.

"Thirteen hostiles, all armed, plenty of weapons lying around," informed Draco.

Abraxas nodded. "Good, time to test out a new gadget."

Reaching into his combat robes, less loose than the everyday versions, Abraxas drew an aerosol, shaking it.

Abraxas chuckled. "Something Ignis whipped up, a dreamless sleep potion that can be sprayed."

Draco frowned, "Is that the creepy guy with the hood-"

Abraxas was gone, disapparating away, leaving Draco alone.

"I hate it when he does that."

Tapping his foot Draco waited for a few minutes before Abraxas reappeared, aerosol in hand.

"Clear, stay on your guard," warned Abraxas as he and Draco stepped out, heading for the mouth of the cave. "We've entered the anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards, we'll have to get to here once we've secured the package."

"How are we getting into the cave?" questioned Draco, frowning as his sword seemed to heat up slightly, before dismissing it.

"Simple, we walk through the front door," answered Abraxas with a sly smile. "Lucius is arrogant enough to believe his wards are impentible, that makes him prone to mistakes."

"The ward designed to lock out any unwanted guests is flawed, instead of blocking out all magicals but Lucius, it blocks out all magicals but the Malfoy Family, since we share similar blood."

Draco sighed, "you could have just said we could be through, you didn't need to explain every little detail in painstaking clarity."

Abraxas hit Draco upside the head. "What did I teach you, respect those your can use to your benefit."

"I remember, vividly," replied Draco.

Abraxas sighed and drew his wand, using a point-me spell. "This way."

The two walked on in silence, passing more and more of Lucius' minions, following the direction the spell had given them.

 

* * *

 

Abu Bakaar was a proud member of the Ten Rings, he'd been working for them since he was a child, but for the first time he was truly afraid for his life.

"Status report!" barked Raza, speaking in his native Arabic.

"Project Nahda is stalling, the doctor cannot isolate the desired element from the subject's blood," replied Abu, trying his utmost to remain calm, "The doctors have removed his left leg below the knee again, just as they did two months ago, to test his healing ability, a fresh batch of blood has been delivered the doctor for testing."

"At least tell me the other use for the blood is progressing."

"Project Almawt is nearly complete, all we are waiting on is Stark's Jericho missile," answered Abu.

"And what of Tony Stark?" questioned Raza, pacing the small cave room which served as his office.

"No progress, all he does is request more paper for designs," answered Abu, "But I assure you-"

Raza slammed his fist down on his desk, "You promised that two weeks ago! All Stark has done so far is build that glowing machine in his chest and draw rubbish!"

Abu paled. "Please-"

Drawing a pistol, Raza pointed it square at Abu, releasing the safety.

"Go on, explain to me why I shouldn't kill you right now," spat Raza.

"How uncivilised," spoke a cultured voice.

"You, what are you doing here?" growled Raza, lowering his gun as he looked around him. "After your last visit you said you were finished with the test subject."

"New information has arisen," informed Lucius as he appeared in front of Raza, seemingly out of nowhere. "Besides, a Malfoy never gives up."

 

* * *

 

"I almost can't believe it," spoke Yinsen, staring at the large metal suit which towered over him, Tony and Harry. "It's finished."

"What?" grinned Tony. "Did you think I couldn't do it?"

"I thought Raza and his men would have discovered it by now," replied Yinsen.

"I'll admit it, Stark," uttered Harry. "When I saw those plans they looked ridiculous, like something out of a comic book."

"I'll take that as a compliment," retorted Tony with a smug grin. "So, what are you two gonna do when we break outta here?"

Harry looked down. "I don't know, with Lucius around it's not safe for me to return home."

Deep in thought, Yinsen replied, "I'm going to see my family again."

Tony frowned, "Don't you have anyone you can trust, outside the Magical World?"

"Nope," answered Harry, shaking his head.

"I know someone you could stay with," spoke Tony. "Once we get outta here."

"Who?"

"Rhodey," answered Tony, "he's a Lt. Colonel in the US Air Force, but more importantly he's a very close friend of mine and liaison between Stark Industries and the army."

"The army?" questioned Harry, looking worried.

"It's fine," assured Tony, "Rhodey knows when to keep it zipped, especially around powers, his niece is a mutant after all."

Harry nodded, during his research into his abilities he'd wondered if he was a mutant, before coming to the realisation of the Phoenix tears and Basilisk venom.

"He kept the lid of the Jericho missile for quite a while too."

"Jericho," murmured Harry, before speaking up. "Why would the Ten Rings want one, no offence, shoddily made missile when they're already making a super-soldier serum?"

"Much offence taken."

"Covering all bases?" offered Yinsen.

"No, something isn't right here," spoke Harry, "Every sample Yinsen's made has killed the user and they seem happy about it. Stark, didn't they say something about altering the design?"

Tony frowned. "They told me to replace the payloads with containers, I assumed they were going to fill them with napalm or such."

Harry's eyes widened. "My blood, they're going to put that in the Jericho."

"A biological weapon," muttered Yinsen. "With 100% effectiveness."

Tony paled, he'd made some horrifying weapons in his time, but biological warfare was something he'd sworn never to touch.

"Suit me up, we need to stop them now."

 

* * *

 

Abraxas and Draco snuck down the passageway, on high alert as they rounded the final corner, only to come face-to-face with Lucius and squad of his minions.

"Did you think I was that blind?" queried Lucius as he glared at his father and his son.

"Arrogance is one of your defining traits," retorted Abraxas, summoning his wand from its holster.

"So you found it," commented Lucius, "I hoped it would lost forever."

"You tried, you failed," retorted Abraxas, "but there's nothing unusual about that, is there?"

Lucius' nostrils flared, before he glared at Draco. "Son, still a failure I see."

Draco sighed. "Father, still a petty child I see."

"Your grandfather has made you insolent and weak," spat Lucius. "Once I've disposed of him I'll make sure to remind you of our trust family values."

"Your values," spoke Abraxas. "You were the only one in the family who wanted to bow to Voldemort."

"You are not worthy to speak our true name!"

Abraxas suddenly began to laugh. "True name, Voldemort's true name was Tom Marvolo Riddle, son of a muggle and a squib, what he hated most."

"Do not speak that name!" snapped Lucius, his eyes suddenly burning red, a glamour over his face breaking, revealing half his face to be melted and deformed, a gap in his flesh showing his teeth and muscles below.

"That. That's not good," commented Draco, drawing his sword.

"What have you done to yourself?" asked Abraxas, his voice filled with pity and disappointment.

"This isn't my fault!" retorted Lucius. "Potter did this to me, gave the damn diary back to me all to free elf scum."

"Voldemort's soul wasn't entirely destroyed," realised Abraxas, "it tried to take you over."

"I won!" roared Lucius, "I beat him, adsorbed his power, his knowledge, I'm better than he ever was!"

 

* * *

 

Harry stood, staring at the cell doors, he could hear arguing on the other side, someone had come to rescue them.

He wouldn't let anyone die for him again.

"I'll buy us time," spoke Yinsen from where he was gearing Tony up, moving to grab a rifle that Harry had managed to steal a few weeks prior with his magic.

"No," stated Harry, grabbing his brown leather bomber jacket and pulling it on, adjusting the wool-lined collar, "I'll hold them off, you need to get Stark up and running."

Sliding his right arm into the gauntlet Tony had made for him, Harry secured it with the catches and powered it up, orange light springing to life in the center of his palm.

"Be careful," urged Yinsen.

"Yeah, what he said," agreed Tony, craning his neck, unable to see Harry from his position.

"I'll make no promises," replied Harry, raising his gauntlet as he approached the doors, aiming at the bomb Yinsen and Stark had rigged to them as their first line of defense.

Releasing a simple blasting curse, Harry watched as the device exploded with a orange ball of flames.

Draco coughed as dust and smoke filled the corridor, quickly surveying the situation, the cell doors had been blown off, crushing a couple of the terrorists, knocking the others over.

A silhouette appeared in the smoke, orange flames hovering over an armoured hand.

Lucius turned to face the figure. "What the-"

"Surprise," spoke Harry as he appeared from the smoke, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

 

* * *

 


	6. Issue #6

_I do not attempt to claim ownership of Marvel Comics or the Harry Potter series._

* * *

**FORGED IN FIRE**

**Issue #6**

' **I Just Want to Start a Flame in Your Heart'**

* * *

 

_**Ten Rings Hideout, Afghanistan / 01.05.2009** _

 

"Potter," sighed Draco as his rival appeared from out of the smoke, his hand encased in flames. "Well, that's new."

Harry turned his head to look at Draco, before sighing. "So you're helping your father out, aren't you?"

"Oh shit."

Before Draco could react, Harry aimed his hand at his rival, the flames dying down slightly, before he thrust it forwards.

Draco brought his sword up in the vain hope of blocking the flames, only for a gust of hot air from Harry's gauntlet to knock him backwards into the cave wall.

"Draco, I trust you can hold Potter off," spoke Lucius as he stood up. "I've always known you were a good son."

With that, Lucius disapparated, leaving the terrorists behind with Harry and Draco.

"Bastard," growled Draco as pushed himself to his feet, glancing over to see Abraxas lying on the ground, unconscious. "Real father of the year material."

Harry turned to face one of the terrorists as he charged at him. "Let's go."

Bringing up his gauntlet, Harry used it to block the terrorist's fist, before he aimed it at the terrorist's chest, releasing a gout of red flames, blasting his opponent backwards.

Spinning around, Harry struck another terrorist that was trying to catch him by surprise across the forehead with the forearm of his gauntlet, making him crumple instantly.

"You really are an insipid moron," growled Draco, readying himself. "I'm on your side, Potter!"

"If you think that's going to work you are sorely mistaken, Malfoy," retorted Harry, charging at Draco, gauntlet at the ready.

Taking a step forwards, Draco swung his blade, knocking the gauntlet to one side, causing Harry's blast of hot air to go wide and hit the wall instead, the recoil sending Harry stumbling.

"Man, you're dumb," drawled Draco. "It's a wonder you haven't forgotten how to breathe yet."

Potter wasn't trying to kill or seriously injure him, but that didn't mean Draco wasn't going to fight back.

"Do you ever the hell shut up, Malfoy?" retorted Harry, glaring at his blond opponent.

Malfoy sighed, "well, this is going to be constructive."

"Jesus, are you so inbred that you can't tell when to close your dumb, flapping gums before I burn them the everloving fuck off!" yelled Harry, setting his hands on fire. "Nine months. Nine months your Thranduil-knockoff of a father has kept me here, cut of from my magic."

"You done having a temper tantrum yet?" snapped Draco, raising his sword. "I think I'd rather fight you than have to listen to whine like a bitch in heat."

"Bite me, Malfoy."

Draco raced forwards, using a kick to sweep Harry's feet from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.

"Gladly," grunted Draco.

Harry rolled to one side, pushing himself back to his feet, years at the hands of Dudley and his cronies allowing him to recover almost instantly. "You want to bite me?"

Draco flushed red, "you were being metaphorical and you know it!"

"Sure I was," replied Harry, his armoured arm behind his back, flames slowly gathering in his palm, "but were you?"

Draco spluttered, giving Harry the opening he'd been waiting for, drawing his arm from behind his back, revealing a scorching sword of pure fire, the outline of the blade blurry, barely holding together, with a grip of a katar, at 90 degrees to the position of a normal sword hilt.

Swinging his blade of fire down, Harry aimed for Draco's raised sword, hoping to cut it in half, disarming his hated rival.

It couldn't be that simple, after all, Harry's life never was.

The blazing sword hit Draco's blade, the two locking into place, before a bolt of lightning suddenly shot from Draco's sword, sending Harry crashing back into the cave wall.

Pushing himself to his feet, Harry raised his flame sword, now considerably shorter and blurrier, and charged at Draco.

"Enough!"

Both Harry and Draco suddenly found themselves unable to move, frozen in place.

"For the love of Merlin, we here are here to rescue you, Mr. Potter," sighed Abraxas, moving to stand between the two frozen teens, healing a cut on his forehead as he did.

"And you are?" hissed Harry, his eyes not leaving Draco.

"Abraxas Malfoy, Head of the Malfoy Family," answered the older wizard.

"I thought you were dying," snapped Harry.

"I was, slowly being rotted inside by own son's poison," answered Abraxas, his tone sombre. "I was saved by an old friend."

Harry frowned, "and why would Lucius do that?"

"Malfoy Headship for one thing," spoke Abraxas, "but, the true reason was that I was a spy for the Light during the Blood War."

"A Malfoy, spy for the good guys, sounds unlikely," retorted Harry, "how do I know you're telling the truth?"

"The good name of Malfoy used mean something, peace, stability, hope," sighed Abraxas, before raising his wand. "Everything I just told you is true, I swear on my magic."

A blue light pulsed down the length of Abraxas' wand, before he cast a spell to summon a horde of small birds, which vanished after a few seconds.

"Happy now?" questioned Abraxas, "or do I need to bind you and float you out of here?"

"Fine, so long as gel-for-brains doesn't try anything funny," replied Harry, making Draco splutter angrily.

"I'll make sure of it personally," nodded Abraxas as he released Harry and Draco, "I'm still having to fix all Lucius' parenting mistakes."

"I'm right here!" argued Draco, his face red, "I'm not a fucking dog!"

Abraxas turned his head to look directly at Draco, "Heel."

"Fuck you."

Draco winced as a stinging hex hit his shoulder, stronger than normal.

"Today is just getting better and better," smiled Harry as Draco glared at him.

A series of shouts suddenly sounded, as a around fifteen of the Ten Rings terrorist rounded the corner.

"Let's go," stated Harry, raising his gauntlet, only for a small object to fly past him, out of his cell, impacting next to the terrorist and exploding, taking at least three of them out.

"Are we late?" asked the hulk metal form of Tony, Yinsen only a few steps behind, rifle at the ready.

"Took you long enough," replied Harry, with an easy smile.

"I take it Gandalf and the Spike wannabe are with you?" questioned Tony, raising his arm, the armour unfolding to reveal a built in gatling gun.

"Will everyone stop mocking me like this!" hissed Draco indignantly.

Harry smiled, as Tony mowed down the terrorists. "How would you like me to mock you?"

"Shut up, Scarhead."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "How original of you."

Draco face flushed and he raised his sword. "Go on, Potter, mock one more time, see what happ-ARGH!"

Dropping to one knee, Draco gritted his teeth, Abraxas' stinging jinx burning through his body.

"I see what happens when I mock you," spoke Harry, "it's quite amusing."

 

* * *

 

"No sign of them yet," reported Sirius, lowering his omnioculars. "But it looks like they alerted everyone in a 2 mile radius. Are you sure we can't-"

"We can't get through the wards, we need to cover them when they get to cave mouth, so they can use the Portkey," answered Ignis as they joined Sirius at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the Ten Rings cave, "not until then."

Sirius stretched his arms, still stiff from years of disuse in Azkaban, "I have a bad feeling about this."

Ignis scoffed. "Sure thing Skywalker."

"I'm more Han Solo, lovable rogue and all that," replied Sirius.

"You keep telling yourself that."

 

* * *

 

Lucius stormed through the cave tunnel, reaching the mouth, a wand in his grip. "Bloody morons. Filthy Blood Traitor!"

"Sir, is something the matter?" questioned Abu, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

Flicking his wand, Lucius watched as two of terrorists' heads span around in an instant, snapping their necks.

"Nothing's wrong at all!" snapped Lucius, rounding on Abu. "Can't you tell?!"

The wand was suddenly at Abu's neck, glowing with power, his feet suddenly stuck to the ground.

"Except that Potter and the other prisoners have escaped, using a suit of armour they've built under your watch may I add, and my blood traitor of a father has corrupted my only legitimate heir, dragging him into a rescue attempt!"

Abu quailed, before speaking. "So, could be better?"

As Lucius' wand began to glow, Abu knew he'd made the wrong choice.

In a split-second Abu was there and then he was gone, his body flung out of the cave mouth, his feet and lower legs still stuck to ground.

"That almost cheered me up," commented Lucius, with a sadistic smile.

"Who am I kidding, of course it cheered me up."

"MALFOY!"

Turning, Lucius watched as a fireball blasted out of the corridor, forcing him to twist to one side to avoid it.

Righting himself, Lucius watched as Harry and Draco charged out of the darkness, the former of the two in the lead.

Encasing his fist in flames, Harry threw a punch at Lucius as he closed in, only for a flick of the wand in Lucius' grip to sending him flying into a wall.

Spinning around, Lucius summoned a rapier, using it to slash at Draco's hand, cutting into his flesh and forcing him to drop his sword.

Clutching his bloody hand, Draco glared at his father, and charged, dodging a stunning spell to land a solid punch to Lucius' gut, winding him, forcing him to drop the rapier.

Lucius coughed. "Fighting like a filthy muggle now are you?"

"My doing I'm afraid," spoke Abraxas as he entered the cave room, wand drawn, Tony and Yinsen, the former rocking the ground with every step. "Most wizards never expect their opponent to fight with anything other than a wand."

"I'm not most wizards," replied Lucius, waving his hand, rocks in the walls lighting up with runes, everyone but Lucius and Harry freezing in place.

Harry pushed himself to his feet, "what have you done?"

"A freezing ward," answered Lucius, as if talking to a very small child. "Now, we can fight properly, one on one."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Because you're such a fan of fighting fair."

"How droll," retorted Lucius, "then again, I'm sure your friends can attest to how fair I fight."

"My friends?" murmured Harry. "What have you done to Ron and Hermione?"

"Me? Nothing," replied Lucius. "As for someone else..."

"If you've even tried to hurt them," growled Harry, "I'll-"

"You'll do what?" questioned Lucius, cutting Harry off. "What can you do to stop me?"

"I'll kill you," stated Harry calmly, his eyes flashing blue.

Raising the wand in his grip, Lucius pointed it at Harry, firing off a spell. Diving to one side before he could be hit, Harry watched as green light splashed against the wall, staining it black.

"I see you recognise the spell," grinned Lucius, "After all, it was the one that gave you that scar."

"The Killing Curse," muttered Harry.

"Correct, now hold still," sneered Lucius, raising his wand again, "Avada Keda-"

Ducking in the nick of time to avoid a fireball, Lucius's disfigured face contorted in rage, feeling his singed hair.

"What?" questioned Harry, holding up his hands. "If you're not going to fight fair, why should I?"

"Insolent brat!" hissed Lucius, aiming the wand again, only to find his hand empty.

Harry frowned, examining the wand now in his grip. "This is my wand!"

"Why yes it," smirked Lucius, trying to save face. "And I must say, it's been working remarkable well for me."

"Don't try and play it cool, Lucius," sneered Harry, his demeanor suddenly shifting, his eyes turning an icy blue. "You're wondering how I managed to summon the wand non-verbally."

"That night, Halloween 1996, I went to Godric's Hollow to become immortal," spoke Harry. "I was destroyed and what remained of my soul was split in two, one fragment fled, the other was bound to boy, forced by Lily Potter's magic to protect him in her stead."

"For years I resented my existence, bound to mortal body, tricked by prophecy. But I wasn't, it was my destiny, no, our destiny to be bound together, I realised that after the fight with my Basilisk. The raw power of the boy, my knowledge, fused as a perfect being in an immortal body.

"So, Lucius," drawled Harry, his eyes flashing red momentarily. "Your Lord's right here, and he's fresh out of mercy."

Raising his unarmored hand, his wand clutched in its grip, Harry charged forwards as ice suddenly encased his arm, his wand travelling through the ice to run along his arm, sticking in place.

Dodging a killing curse from Lucius, having drawn the Malfoy wand, Harry raised his ice-covered arm, a blasting curse shooting from his fingertips.

"Protego!"

Lucius' hasty shield saved him from his chest blown open, but wasn't strong enough to stop himself from being slammed into the cave wall, ice creeping up his body, freezing him in place.

Harry approached Lucius, looking smug. "Lucius, you're not looking too hot."

"Fuck you, you half-blood bastard!" spat Lucius.

"It's funny, knowing you're going to die and being unable to stop it loosens even the most diplomatic tongue," chuckled Harry, flicking his wand, a large cut appearing along Lucius's face.

"You pathetic, foul blood-"

"Oh shut up with your stale material, mudblood this, blood-traitor that, it gets so annoying," interrupted Harry, yawning.

"You snake-fucking bastard!" hissed Lucius, not even listening to Harry, "we all know the real reason you wanted to work in a school full of children."

"That's more like it," congratulated Harry, clapping his hands. "But I don't really think you can talk, you and your pathetic hair look like you're not allowed within 50 foot of a school."

"Fuck you."

"Is that why your son's so keen to do you in?" queried Harry, tilting his head to where Draco was frozen in place. "Young Draco, please show us where on the doll daddy touched you."

"Screw you, at least I have a legitimate heir!"

Harry frowned in confusion. "Why would I want a little monster that spends its life alternating between screaming and shitting itself?"

"Fair point."

"Why is everyone bullying me today?" grunted Draco in annoyance, starting to break free of the freezing ward.

"Easy target," replied Harry nonchalantly, "that greasy mess you call a hairstyle just screams 'I was breastfed until I was twelve'."

Draco pushed himself to his feet shakily, "says the guy inhabiting the body of the stupidest being known to man."

Harry frowned. "Harsh, besides, I'm off-limits."

"My father?"

"Oh no, he's fair game, go for the jugular," replied Harry.

Draco straightened up, "Father. You look like an Inferi, an Inferi that got run over by the Hogwarts Express, you look like someone left you in the oven and your face just melted, you look like the contents of a chamber pot come to life."

"Finished?" questioned Lucius, just about keeping his cool.

Draco nodded, a wide smile creeping onto his face. "Pretty much, Eugene."

"Fuck you, I'll rip you skin off and feed ito to peacocks!" roared Lucius, tugging and pulling on the ice holding him in place.

Harry tilted his head, blue eyes shining, "that was, surprisingly effective. Why?"

"He think Eugene is a common muggles name."

Harry frowned, "it was, in the 30s."

"You're doing it wrong," spoke Abraxas, joining the others, Yinsen and Tony still frozen.

Harry shook his head disbelievingly, "no I'm not."

Abraxas stepped in close, "Lucius, you're a half-blood."

"What?" questioned Lucius, his voice panicked.

"Your mother was a muggleborn fleeing persecution in Nazi Germany."

"N-No," sobbed Lucius, broken.

Harry looked back and forth, unable to believe his eyes, "I had to go to dark place to do mine and you just whip that out first time?!"

"Screw you, I guess it's time to teach you a lesson," hissed Lucius, suddenly breaking his arm free and aiming his wand at Yinsen, "Avada Kedavra!"

Time slowed to a crawl for Harry.

" _We need to save him!"_

"Why? He is a lowly muggle, beneath our notice, we could be a god."

" _Isn't a god supposed to care about people?"_

"You haven't read much Greek Mythology, have you?"

" _I can't let him die, I won't. He's been looking after me for months, caring for the wounds these bastards have inflicted on ME!"_

" _I WON'T LET HIM DIE!_

"No!" roared Harry, his eyes turning orange.

Surging forwards, Harry pushed Yinsen out of the way of the Killing Curse, instead taking it directly to the chest.

Looking down at his chest, his t-shirt stained black, Harry nodded before looking up, a blazing inferno in his eyes, aimed directly at Lucius.

"Oh shit."

Flames lit on Harry's palm, travelling up his arm and covering his entire body, bathing the cave in an orange glow.

"Don't you remember what I said I'd do if you tried to hurt someone I care about?" questioned Harry as he raised his hand, moving it closer and closer to Lucius' face.

Lucius quivered in fear, dropping to his feet as the ice melted away, his wand rolling away as he dropped it.

"I said I'd kill you."

Harry's hand made contact with Lucius' face, making him scream out in pain as it burnt into his flesh.

"I am Judge, Jury and Executioner," spoke Harry, his eyes a burning orange, "and your sentence is death."

With a roar, the flames surrounding Harry's hand turned blue, encasing Lucius' head and burning it to a crisp.

With one final scream Lucius Malfoy perished, his body dropping to the ground, smoking.

Harry stumbled backwards, the flames surrounding him fading away, "what have I don-"

Harry hit the ground, unconscious.

Tony and Yinsen stumbled forwards, freed from the freezing ward.

Tony looked down at Lucius' body, "seventy-six, your order's ready."

"What the hell was that?" questioned Yinsen.

Draco stared at his father's smoking corpse in horror, wondering if this was the power of Potter or the Dark Lord.

The terrifying thing was…

He couldn't tell.

Abraxas dropped to one knee, "I'm sorry I failed you, son."

Footsteps echoed as two figures entered the cave, putting Tony and Yinsen on guard, ready to fight.

"They're with us," assured Abraxas as he stood up, looking over to where Sirius and Ignis had come to a halt.

"What happened?" questioned Ignis, shock in their voice. "The wards came down, we knew he had to be dead, but how?"

"Not that we're particularly upset that he's dead," added Sirius.

"Sirius," admonished Ignis.

"Harry," stated Abraxas calmly. "Harry killed him, but he's got part of the Dark Lord's soul in him, it took him over."

Ignis took a step forwards, one shaking hand reaching towards their hood. "What have I done?"

The hood fell backwards to reveal a face.

The face of Lily Potter.

 

* * *

 


	7. Issue #7

_I do not attempt to claim ownership of Marvel Comics or the Harry Potter series._

* * *

**FORGED IN FIRE**

**Issue #7**

' **Dancing, With Tears in My Eyes'**

* * *

 

Harry groaned, before frowning at the fact he was stood up.

Opening his eyes, Harry looked all around himself, he was in some sort of white void, totally alone.

"Hello, Harry."

Or so he thought.

Slowly turning around, Harry bit back a snarl at the sight of a well-groomed man in his thirties, with neat, jet-black hair and blue eyes, undeniably an older version of Tom Riddle, or as he would prefer, Lord Voldemort.

"Bitchface," replied Harry, as a greeting.

Riddle pursed his lips, "must you be so juvenile?"

"You murdered my parents and sentenced me to a childhood growing up in a cupboard," retorted Harry, "this kinda feels like the way to go."

Riddle rolled his eyes, "such drama, then again, you are thirteen, melodrama is in your nature."

"You want to talk about melodrama, do you?" snapped Harry. "Voldemor _t_."

"Voldemort, the 't' is silent," corrected Riddle, pinching the bridge of his nose, "this is why I put a taboo on my name, one idiot gets it wrong and then they all do, bloody sheep."

Harry gave Riddle a disbelieving look, "You put a taboo on your name, because people couldn't pronounce it correctly."

"Pretty much."

"And how did that work out for you, You-Know-Who?" questioned Harry.

Riddle grimaced. "It was supposed to make them pronounce it correctly."

"And now it means people get you mixed up you-know-who from across the street, you know, the one with curlers in her hair and too many cats," retorted Harry. "Looks like that plan backfired, but then again, since I'm still breathing it's obvious it's a habit of yours."

Riddle frowned, "I once knew someone with a sense of humour like yours."

"What happened to him?"

"I killed them," answered Riddle calmly.

Harry stared at Riddle. "Why? Why would you say that?"

Riddle shrugged. "Seemed relevant."

"What do you want?" questioned Harry. "It's clear you want something."

"Don't we all?" replied Riddle, before turning serious. "Actually, I do have a, proposal."

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" murmured Harry to himself, before speaking up. "Go on."

"Your mother, she created a piece of sacrificial magic, she willingly gave her life for you, binding not only her soul, but also the soul of her murderer, to you," explained Riddle.

"Wait, my mother's soul? Does that mean she's here too?" demanded Harry, looking all around.

"She was, her wit was as grating as yours," answered Riddle, "but, she's gone, has been since the day after you fought the other me in the Chamber, I believe your powers burnt through the bond, allowing her to pass on to the afterlife."

"Oh," muttered Harry, deflated, "I understand."

Riddle smiled. "Now, as I was saying, my proposal, I will lend you my power, train you far beyond the taste I let you see, when I let believe you had absorbed me, and in return, you will help me gain a new body."

"Why would I do that?" snapped Harry. "So you can finish the job and kill me?"

"No, no, I've realised that would be, counterproductive, to my goal," answered Riddle.

Harry swelled up with anger. "How dare you! You murdered my parents, and you think I would work with you! I will never, ever ask or accept your help!"

Riddle stepped forwards. "Surely we can-"

Flames sprung from Harry's hand, before he slammed it towards Riddle.

 

* * *

 

_**Malfoy Retreat / 03.05.2009** _

 

Harry jolted awake, blinking in sunlight, he was in a large, opulent bedroom. "Where am I?"

"Malfoy Retreat, Abraxas brought you here for treatment," answered a nurse, handing Harry a glass of water and a potion as he sat up.

"Treatment for what?" questioned Harry, taking a gulp of water. "What happened?"

"You passed out from magical exhaustion," informed Abraxas as he entered the bedroom. "But there is bigger issue."

"How long was I out?"

"Two days." responded Abraxas, moving to stand at the foot of Harry's bed.

"Where am I?"

"Southern France," replied Abraxas. "Malfoy Retreat, don't worry, it's safe here, only those I allow can cross the wards."

Harry looked down. "Why are you helping me?"

"You mean 'why is a Malfoy helping me?', don't you?" replied Abraxas with a chuckle.

Harry flushed and nodded.

"I was a spy, for the Light during the Voldemort's campaign," explained Abraxas. "Your mother was my primary contact, a good friend. I promised her I'd protect you if anything happened to you."

"And I'm ashamed to say I didn't do a very good job of that," continued Abraxas. "I attempted to have you placed in a suitable wizarding home after Voldemort's downfall, the Diggorys or perhaps the MacMillans. But I failed, and Dumbledore managed to have you placed with your muggle relatives rather than my daughter-in-law."

Harry nodded. "I understand, but you did help us get out of that cave, so thank you."

Abraxas gave a ghost of a smile, "I think the muggle phrase, 'too little, too late' applies."

Harry started to open his mouth, but shut when he realised he couldn't think of anything to say.

"You said there was a bigger issue?"

Abraxas nodded. "It seems, on the night the Dark Lord attacked, well, he-"

"Accidentally made me into a Horcrux," finished Harry. "I know, he possessed me in the cave, didn't he?"

"Yes," confirmed Abraxas. "He took control of your body and killed-"

"He didn't kill Lucius," admitted Harry, his voice quiet. He was as bad as Voldemort, he'd taken a life and felt only glee, maybe Riddle had been, they were so very alike. "I did, I was so angry, I wanted to make him suffer, like he made me suffer."

"It wasn't you, the fragment of the Dark Lord stoked your anger, he killed my son, not you," spoke Abraxas, his tone making it clear the topic was not up for debate.

"I can't go back home, can I?" questioned Harry.

Abraxas paused. "No, the Horcrux would feed off the ambient magic at Hogwarts, in a year or more it would begin to take you over."

"In a Muggle area?" queried Harry. "How long would I last?"

"Thirty, forty years," answered Abraxas, before a ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "You mean to go with Stark to Los Angeles."

Harry nodded.

"Los Angeles is a nexus of an anomaly that interferes with magic," explained Abraxas.

"You'd be safe there."

Harry tilted his head to see a slightly gaunt man stood in the door, no older than forty. Behind him was another man, around the same age, maybe a little older, with tired eyes and grey creeping into his hair.

Abraxas took a deep breath, preparing himself. "Harry, may I introduce you to Sirius Black and Remus Black, they were friends of your parents."

"Hey," greeted Sirius, suddenly looking quite nervous as he entered the bedroom, Remus in tow.

"You were at my parents wedding," blurted out Harry, realising why the two looked familiar.

Remus smiled. "I'm glad you liked the photos I sent Hagrid."

"That was you?"

"Amongst others, Augusta Longbottom sent some of Frank and Alice's photos, Molly Weasley, Amelia Bones, Minerva, Professor McGonagall to you."

"Whoa," smiled Harry, as Sirius approached his bedside, taking a seat.

"There's something I need to tell you," spoke Sirius, Harry nodding in puzzled agreement. "I'm your godfather, I left you with Hagrid that night, I shouldn't have gone after Pettigrew, I'm so sorry."

Harry looked taken aback. "Pettigrew?"

Remus stepped forwards. "A friend of ours, Sirius suggested that your parents make him the Secret Keeper, while pretending it was Sirius."

"He betrayed them, and I went after him instead of staying with you," admitted Sirius. "When I caught up to him he blew up the street and transformed into a rat, his Animagus form, and cut off of his finger, framing me."

"Rat, missing a finger," mused Harry, feeling like he was missing something. "Scabbers!"

"Caught and in Azkaban, Sirius's name is cleared," answered Remus.

Sirius steeled himself. "I was going to ask you to come live with me, but that doesn't seem possible right now."

Harry shrugged. "I under-"

"We're going to find a way to fix this Harry," promised Sirius. "We'll fix this and then you can go wherever the hell you like, I swear."

Harry smiled, welling up, before pulling Sirius into a tight hug.

Sirius laughed, returning the hug.

 

* * *

 

_**Parlor, Malfoy Retreat** _

 

The nurse entered the parlor, her appearance suddenly shifting to Lily Potter, wiping tears from her face.

"He needs you, Lily," spoke Remus as he shut the door behind himself.

"He doesn't," answered Lily, turning away from Remus.

"Don't you think he would want to know his mother was alive?"

Lily span to face Remus. "What am I supposed to say? Hi, Harry, I'm your dead mother, sorry I haven't been around much I had a chronic case of being in a fucking coffin for the last I-can't-remember-how-many years! Sorry I bound your soul to the guy who tried to murder you!"

Remus remained silent as Lily finished, panting with pain and rage.

"Considering how emotionally stunted is Harry is that would probably be more effective than you think," spoke Remus calmly.

"This isn't funny," defended Lily. "I'm being serious."

"Funny, I thought you were Lily," answered Remus.

"I hate that joke so much," sobbed Lily as she hugged Remus.

"Don't worry," soothed Remus. "We all do."

 

* * *

 

_**Two Days Later…** _

 

"Here," spoke Sirius, handing an ornate mirror to Harry, as they stood on the lawns of Malfoy Retreat, "this one links to mine, an old Black family heirloom, me and James used to use them all the time."

"Clearly wizards have never heard of Skype," commented Tony, his arm in a sling. To avoid suspicion his and Yinsen's injuries has not been fully healed, only enough that they would not cause lasting damage, however, the shrapnel in Tony's chest was beyond even the wonders of magic.

"Stark," warned Yinsen.

"Just saying," defended Tony.

"Thanks," smiled Harry, stowing the mirror in his backpack, beside his shrunken trunk, returned to him by Remus. "I'll call you when I'm settled in."

Harry had spent the majority of the last two days getting to Sirius and Remus, one a wrongly convicted animagus who was his godfather, the other a werewolf who was teaching at Hogwarts. Shame Remus hadn't been able to take him after his parents died, stupid backwards laws.

The rest of Harry's time had been up with Yinsen and Stark, the latter had spent a lot of his time arguing with Sirius, usually about him, something that made him very uncomfortable.

Sirius smiled. "I do have one last gift."

With that, Sirius summoned a broomstick, holding it out to Harry.

"No way, a Firebolt?" exclaimed Harry, "I can't take this, they're so expensive!"

Sirius shook his head and shrugged. "Trust me, the Black family vaults could buy hundreds of Firebolts and barely dip."

"Thank you," grinned Harry, hugging Sirius, before joining Stark and Yinsen. "Say bye to Remus for me."

"Will do, I'll past those letters for your friends on to Remus next time he's away from Hogwarts," replied Sirius, as he was joined by Abraxas and Draco.

"Here," stated Abraxas, handing a rucksack to a confused Draco.

"Why are you giving me this, thing?" questioned Draco.

"You are going with young Harry, Gram is in the bag," answered Abraxas, before lowering his voice. "Your father still lives, I don't know how, but Gringotts still recognises him as my heir, you are going to America for your own protection. And, to keep an eye on Potter, see any side of Riddle surfacing, owl me. Understood?"

Draco's face transformed into an impassive mask. "Understood, Grandfather."

With that Draco stepped forwards, joining Potter and two Muggles.

"What are you doing?" questioned Harry, in disbelief.

"Someone has to keep an eye on you, in case that half-blood liar takes you over again," retorted Draco.

Harry regarded Draco for a few seconds. "Do what you will."

"Sure thing, Scarhead," retorted Draco as Harry held out an ornate candelabra, a Portkey that would deposit them a distance away from the cave, back in Afghanistan. From there Harry and Draco would take a second portkey to LA while Tony and Yinsen would be rescued.

The other three each placed a hand on the Portkey, vanishing a whirlwind of colour as Harry spoke the activation phase.

"Phoenix."

 

* * *

 

_**Los Angeles, USA / 05.05.2009** _

 

Pepper Potts stood on the runway, watching as the cargo ramp of the plane slowly lowered. Behind her, Happy stood impassively, except for the occasional twitch in his cheek.

Three months Tony had been missing. Three months she'd feared the worse.

The ramp hit tarmac, stopping.

From the darkness appeared two figures, Tony and Rhodey, the latter clearly attempting to convince his friend to use the wheelchair.

Ignoring Rhodey, Tony limped down the ramp, coming to a halt in front of Pepper, the same confident smirk as always on his face.

"Hm, your eyes are red," stated Tony. "A few tears for you long lost boss?"

"Tears of joy, I hate job hunting," replied Pepper, her tone formal, before a slight smile creeped onto her face.

"That's a yes then," smirked Tony.

Another man, balding and with a kind face, exited the plane in a wheelchair pushed by Rhodey, joining Tony and Pepper.

"You must be Dr. Yinsen," greeted Pepper. "Thank you for saving Mr. Stark's life."

Yinsen smiled, slowly exiting the wheelchair, supporting himself with a cane. "He saved mine as well."

Moving to the car, Happy opened the door for Tony.

"Pepper, Yinsen," offered Tony, allowing them to enter first before climbing in.

Happy nodded, moving to close the door.

"Nuh-uh, you've not getting out of my sight yet," spoke Rhodey, entered the car, sat next to Yinsen, across from Tony and Pepper.

"Where to, sir?" asked Happy as he fastened his seat-belt, glancing in the rear-view mirror.

"Take us to the hospital," replied Pepper.

"No," stated Tony quietly, his voice eerily calm.

Pepper looked back at Tony. "No? Tony, you have to go to the hospital."

"I don't have to do anything."

"The doctor has to look at you."

"I've been in captivity for three months," replied Tony calmly. "I want two things, I want a cheeseburger and I want a-"

"That's enough of that," interrupted Pepper in a warning tone.

"It's not what you thing," responded Tony. "I want you to call a press conference."

"A press conference?"

Happy glanced in the mirror again, before starting the car and setting off as Tony and Pepper continued to argue.

"Are they always like this?" questioned Yinsen, leaning over to Rhodey.

"Hell yeah," replied Rhodey with a smile.

"I give it six months," spoke Yinsen.

"Nah, I'm thinking nine," grinned Rhodey.

"A year," added Happy, turning left out of the airfield.

 

* * *

 

_**Stark Industries Headquarters, 1 Hour Later...** _

 

Pepper watched as Tony soaked in the attention, moving to the podium alongside Obadiah Stane, his long-time business partner and even longer-time friend.

The way he moved, the way he spoke, it was like he'd been on a long weekend, but his eyes, something had charged, she could see it.

"Ms. Potts?"

Pepper jumped slightly, turning to see a man, slightly balding and in a well-fitting suit, his posture not quite meshing with the reporters and businessmen that surrounded them.

"I'm not taking questions right now," stated Pepper on instinct.

"I'm not a reporter, I'm Agent Coulson with SHIELD," explained Coulson, "The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. We'd like to debrief Mr. Stark on the events in Afghanistan."

"Sure, I'll pencil you in for an appointment," replied Pepper as Tony sat down in front of the podium, Obadiah standing behind it.

 

* * *

 

_**Beverly Merlot Hotel, LA** _

 

"This place is a dump," complained Draco, lying on his bed.

Harry sighed as he tightened a screw, re-securing a panel on his gauntlet, sat on his own bed as the TV droned on about Tony Stark's return.

"Why did we have to choose this dump?" whined Draco. "It's not like we don't have the money."

"If we, two teenagers, show up at a fancy hotel with a load of money and no adults, they're going to start asking questions we can't answer," retorted Harry, exasperatedly. "Here, no-one gets paid enough to give a shit."

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. "Whatever."

"We are live from Stark Industries Headquarters in LA where Tony Stark, who was feared dead until yesterday, will make his first public appearance."

Harry reached for the remote, turning the volume up.

"Would it be alright if everyone sat down?" mused Tony, on the screen, pulled a cheeseburger from his suit pocket. "That way you guys can see me, I can see you, a little less formal."

Looking at each other with confusion in their eyes, the reporters slowly sat down, Obadiah hesitating for a few seconds, before joining Tony.

Tony looked across to Obadiah as he placed a hand of his shoulder.

"I never said goodbye to dad," admitted Tony, before turning his head to the reporters. "I never said goodbye to my father, I never had that chance."

Tony paused. "I would have asked him questions. About what this company did, if he ever had doubts or was conflicted."

"Or maybe he was every inch the man we remember from the newsreels."

An occasional camera flash echoed as Tony paused again, longer this time.

"Three months ago I watched a young men and women die at the hands of my weapons," spoke Tony, standing and moving to behind the podium. "For three months terrorists tried to force me to build a weapon of mass destruction using a cache of Stark Industries weapons."

Tony paused, taking a deep breath.

"Therefore, I have decided to temporarily suspend all Stark Industries contracts pending an investigation into where these weapons are coming from," announced Tony, as the crowd launched to their feet, shouting question after question, Obadiah moving to take the podium. "I cannot, in good conscious, continue to allow innocent lives to be taken by the weapons that are supposed to protect them."

The feed to Stark Industries cut, the conversation moving back the newsroom, presenters arguing over every insane topic that came to mind, was Tony Stark crazy? Was he a terrorist now? Why wouldn't he do his patriotic duty?

Harry turned the TV off. "Now this is where the fun starts."

 

* * *

 

_**ARC Reactor, Stark Industries Headquarters** _

 

Tony leaned against the railing, watching as the industrial-scale ARC reactor sparked inside its containment unit, as his hand touched the miniaturized version in his chest.

"Well, that went well," sighed Obadiah as he entered the building.

"Guess I just painted a target on the back of my head," joked Tony weakly, as Obadiah moved to join him.

"Your head?" questioned Obadiah with a sigh. "Don't forget about mine. What to you think the over under on the stock drop will be?"

"Optimistically, 20 points," answered Tony, pulling off his tie.

"At minimum," grumbled Obadiah. "Tony, we're a weapons manufacturer-"

"I know, I'm not trying to change that," replied Tony. "But over there I saw kids, barely out of high school, die because of me."

"Tony, do you really think you're responsible?" questioned Obadiah. "Is the guy who assigned them to that unit responsible? Is the guy who flew the plane that transported the weapons? Is the guy that-"

"Enough," spoke Tony. "I'm not just responsible because I built those weapons, they died protecting me, the Ten Rings were only there for me."

Obadiah turned to Tony. "What we do stops the world from falling into chaos."

"Not based on what I saw, we need, we have to do more," argued Tony. "Bio-metric locking, maybe. Non-lethal weaponry?"

"Tony, Tony, Tony. You've just come back from being imprisoned by terrorists," soothed Obadiah. "Just take it easy for a while."

"What about the ARC Reactor?"

"Come on, your dad and I built that to shut up the hippies," sighed Obadiah. "We haven't had a breakthrough in what, thirty years?"

"Until now," responded Tony, unbuttoning the top of his shirt to reveal his ARC Reactor. "This thing is keeping me alive."

Obadiah examined the reactor for a few seconds before doing Tony's shirt back up. "Listen to me, Tony. We're a team, we can do anything, if we stick together, like me and your father-"

"I'm sorry I didn't give you a heads up," interrupted Tony. "But I knew you would try and stop me."

Obadiah took a deep breath. "Okay, we're going to have to play a whole different ball game now. I need you to lay low Tony, for a few months, six tops. Any new projects, weapons, baby bottles or a warm light for all humanity to share, they stay on your personal server, until we find this leak."

Tony moved to leave, grabbing his jacket. "I know you don't agree with me, but thank you."

Obadiah nodded. "Like I said, we have to stick together.

Tony smiled and left the building.

Obadiah smiled, looking up at the ARC Reactor. "Tony, this time you've really outdone yourself."

 

* * *

 


	8. Issue #8

_I do not attempt to claim ownership of Marvel Comics or the Harry Potter series._

 

* * *

 

**FORGED IN FIRE**

**Issue #8**

' **In The Heat of the Moment'**

 

* * *

 

_**Afghanistan** _

 

Raza clawed himself away from the cave mouth, one side of his face burnt and charred.

Ranting in his native tongue, Raza reached out to grab at sand, only for his hand to land on something more solid.

Pushing himself to his knees, Raza lifted up the object, revealing it to be the Riddle Diary, the hole in the center leaking black ink.

_Hello, Raza._

"Malfoy?"

_You may have failed me, but you can still be of use._

A black spirit rose from the damaged book, enveloping Raza and consuming him as he screamed.

The black smoke faded, revealing Raza once again, his eyes a malevolent red and his face gaunt and demonic.

Raza raised his hand, flicking it, but to no effect.

Raza sighed. "No magic, but we can fix that."

Turning around, Raza stared at a sixteen-year old version of Tom Riddle.

Riddle nodded, before falling to one knee. "That we shall, Master."

 

* * *

 

_**Stark Mansion, Malibu / 06.05.2009** _

 

"Let's be honest, Stark Industries is screwed," spoke a commenter on the TV.

"The only way this can be pulled back is if the Board of Directors kicks Stark out and revokes the freeze on trading," argued another person.

"This is a move that independent organisations have been protesting and pleading for for years," added a third interviewee. "This is step towards accountability and-"

Pepper sighed, shutting the TV off.

Picking up the mail, Pepper walked down the stairs, reaching the door to Tony's workshop, inputting the keycode and opening the door.

"Pepper, good timing."

Walking further into the workshop, Pepper stopped at the sight of Tony lying on a reclining chair, Yinsen holding his miniaturised ARC reactor, a thick cable leading into Tony's chest.

"What the hell is this?" questioned Pepper, taking in the sight, as well as two teenagers leaning on a workbench.

"The ARC reactor I built in a cave isn't exactly the most reliable," admitted Tony. "The new one's got a built in electromagnet, so the electromagnet in my chest needs removing, and your the only one with small enough hands."

Pepper stared at Tony, her face giving the clear answer of 'no, god no'.

"Don't worry, I'll guide you through it," assured Yinsen.

Pepper stared at Tony for a few seconds. "Fine. But you tell me why you have two teenagers if what can be legally defined as a basement."

Tony nodded, leaning back. "Sure, let's do that, Pinky and the Brain, tell us your life stories."

Draco and Harry looked at each other.

"Okay, where to start?" murmured Harry. "Ah, my birthday, July 31st, last year, I was staying a pub, the Leaky Cauldron, it was late at night…"

 

* * *

 

_Harry Potter was no ordinary thirteen year-old._

_After all, how many thirteen year-olds would spend the early hours of their birthday pouring over books of spells and potions hungrily, desperately searching for answers…_

… _the feed to Stark Industries cut, the conversation moving back the newsroom, presenters arguing over every insane topic that came to mind, was Tony Stark crazy? Was he a terrorist now? Why wouldn't he do his patriotic duty?_

_Harry turned the TV off. "Now this is where the fun starts."_

 

* * *

 

Two hours, one cardiac arrest and many questions later Pepper Potts was caught up on the full story, not only of Tony's imprisonment, but the stories of Harry, Draco and the wider wizarding world.

"So, you're immortal?" questioned Pepper, cleaning her hands as Yinsen finished fitting the new ARC reactor.

Harry shrugged, "I think so."

"And you have a portion of the soul of the Dark Wizard who killed your parents in your head?" queried Pepper, receiving a nod in agreement. "And he allowed you a portion of his skills and memories so he could convince you to allow him possess you, is that right?"

"Pretty much."

"Do you just attract this weirdness, or do you go looking for it?" questioned Pepper, turning to Tony as he stood up, pulling on a tank top.

"Honestly, a bit of both," smirked Tony. "Anyway, Pepper, would be so kind to show our guests to their rooms."

Pepper looked at Tony for a few seconds. "This way…"

"Not you," spoke Tony quietly, grabbing Draco's arm as he moved to follow Yinsen and Harry, stopping him. "We're going to have a chat."

Draco shrugged, pulling his arm free and leaning against a workbench.

"I don't trust you," stated Tony, sitting on his chair and sliding over to a workbench.

"Good, you're not an idiot," replied Draco, examining his nails, his face the picture of boredom.

"Why did you come here?" asked Tony, absentmindedly playing with a screwdriver.

Draco raised one perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. "To keep an eye on Potter."

Tony snorted, "I didn't want the lie you're telling the world, I want the truth."

Draco regarded Tony, a new respect in his eyes. "Fine, I want revenge on the Dark Lord, and Potter is the only one who can stop him."

"Why?"

Draco sighed. "My father was never a good man, I know that now, but he was a good father, a caring father, he fixed anything I asked to be fix."

"But that diary, it corrupted him, made him cruel, a caricature of the man he was," admitted Draco. "He started hitting my mother, she wanted to leave him after that, but she wouldn't leave me, that's why I agreed to train with my grandfather."

"So she would leave," realised Tony.

"I don't care about muggles or blood-traitors, but one thing I do care about, is family," continued Draco. "The Dark Lord, no, Voldemort, destroyed my family, and I will do anything to get my revenge, even teaming up with Potter."

With that, Draco pushed off from the workbench and left the workshop.

Tony sighed, before spinning around in his chair.

"That went well."

 

* * *

 

Harry sat on the bed, looking around at the room he would be staying in for the foreseeable future.

Clicking his fingers, a flickering flames sprung from Harry's hand.

"When did things get so weird?"

All he'd wanted to do was escape from the Dursleys for 10 months of the year.

Harry sighed, pushing himself to his feet and entering the bathroom.

Running water at the sink, Harry splashed it on his face and straightened up, looking in the mirror to see his reflection.

"How am I supposed to be the hero everyone wants?" questioned Harry.

"You're no hero."

Harry blinked, his reflection had changed, resembling a thirteen-year old Tom Riddle.

"You never were, when Dudley and his friends came you would run, and hide," hissed the reflection. "You went after the Philosopher's Stone to save your own skin, and the only reason you went down into the Chamber was to stop Hogwarts closing, it was never about saving Ginny."

"Shut up," stated Harry.

"You're nothing but a coward," sneered the reflection. "You should be happy to be here, hidden away, Stark can be the hero, and you can cower behind him."

"Shut up!"

"What do you even have to fight for?"

"SHUT UP!"

Harry punched the mirror, a spider-web of cracks covering the surface.

Breathing heavily as he slowly calmed, Harry stared at the broken mirror, numerous reflections of his face staring back at him, returned to normal.

"I won't become him," spoke Harry. "I can't."

Taking a deep breath, Harry turned and exited the bathroom, grabbing his trunk and dropping it onto his bed.

Opening the lid, Harry grabbed a bundle of clothing and Quidditch gear, dumping them on his bed.

Grabbing his beige Quidditch trousers, Harry pulled them on, followed by the worn and baggy blue hoodie.

Moving over to the mirror, Harry grabbed his Quidditch pads and his Gauntlet, pulling the latter onto his right arm, pulling the pads on over his knees and left forearm.

Staring at his reflection, Harry flicked his Gauntlet, changing the trousers black and his hoodie orange. Taking the potion satchel from his truck, Harry charmed in indestructible and threaded it into his belt, resting at the left side of his waist.

Flicking his gauntlet at a old scrap of parchment, Harry transfigured it into a black domino mask and fitted it to his face, his eyes turning a blank white.

"I won't become like Riddle," stated Harry as he stepped backwards. "I will be a hero, in spite of him."

Tightening his fists, Harry focused as hard as he could, before he was suddenly engulfed in flames and vanished.

 

* * *

 

_**Downtown LA** _

 

"Tell me where the papers are!" demanded a woman, her face partially covered by a black goggles, holding a suited man up by his hair, his face bloodied and bruised.

The suited man spat a glob of blood at the woman. "Screw you, Kalkofen."

The masked men surrounding them moved forwards, itching to beat the suited man.

Kalkofen held up her hand, stopping her goons. "Now, now, Mendez, there's no need for such rudeness."

"There's no way I'm telling you where the papers are," spat Mendez. "But I will tell you that you'll never find them."

Mendez pushed himself up to his knees, a hollow laugh echoing from him lips, "go on, kill me! But you won't win."

Kalkofen face hardened, drawing a knife. "So be it."

Tossing the knife up, Kalkofen caught it in a different grip, before bringing it down towards Mendez when a flash of scarlet struck her hand, the knife spinning out of her grip.

"Who's there?" demanded Kalkofen, turning towards the darkness, her goons lining up behind her.

Orange flames lit up the shadows, revealing Harry, his arms covered in fire.

"Who the fuck are you?" demanded Kalkofen.

Harry glared at her, not saying a word, preparing himself.

Kalkofen face twisted into frustration at the lack of response. "Get him!"

Harry readied himself, a small smirk appearing on his lips.

_Five-year old Harry Potter ran down the hallway of Number 4, charging out the door as Vernon chased him, his face a dangerous purple, Harry's end-of-term report in his meaty grip._

_Eight-year old Harry Potter raced across the school playground avoiding Piers Polkiss, and dodging another of Dudley's goons._

_Ten-year old Harry Potter ran across the living room of Number 4, Hogwarts letter in his grip._

_Eleven-year old Harry Potter made a break to escape the Mirror Room, Philosopher's Stone in his pocket, Quirrelmort stood in front of the Mirror of Erised._

_Twelve-year old Harry Potter ran down the Chamber, away from the Basilisk of Slytherin._

Thirteen-year old Harry Potter charged at the goons, gathering a ball of flames in his hand and throwing it at the first of his attackers, slamming him into the wall.

Ducking the swing of a metal pipe, Harry span around and caught it with his gauntlet, before he heated up his hand, melting the pipe.

Another goon yelled, pulling a gun and firing repeatedly at Harry's back, shot after shot thudding into him, blood beginning to soak his hoodie.

Turning to face the goon, Harry slowly walked towards him as he dropped the gun and fell to his knees.

"Please, please don't kill me!" begged the man.

Harry stared at the goon for a few seconds, before lashing out, hitting him in the head and knocking him out.

Reaching into his potions satchel, Harry grabbed a Bulgeye Potion, tossing the vial of green liquid at two of the goons. Raising his gauntlet, Harry fired a repulsor blast at the vial, shattering the vial and vaporising the potion.

The two goons screamed and clutched their head as their eyes swelled up, collapsing to their knees.

Turning to face Kalkofen and the three remaining goons, Harry charged, ducking under the punch of one of the goons and aiming his gauntlet at him.

"Carpe Retractum!"

An orange jet of light fired from the palm of Harry's gauntlet, latching onto the goon's forehead. Gripping the rope of energy, Harry pulled with all of his enhanced strength and stepped to one side, slamming the goon into the wall of the alley.

A punch struck Harry, dazing him before he recovered to see the final two goons standing over him.

Raising his gauntlet, Harry placed his thumb over the ARC reactor in his palm and cast a stunner, splitting the beam and sending both the goons flying in opposite directions.

Pushing himself to his feet, Harry brushed himself off and looked towards Kalkofen.

"What are you? Some kind of freak?" spat Kalkofen. "This isn't your fight, you don't need to play the hero, leave now and I'll let you live."

Harry chuckled, before tensing up his arms and gathering a ball of flames over his chest before releasing it, slamming into Kalkofen's chest and blasting her back, landing further down the alley, unconscious with a phoenix-shape burnt into her chest.

Releasing a deep breath, Harry cleaned the blood from his hoodie and repaired the bullet holes, before turning to walk away.

"What are you?" questioned Mendez as he clambered to his feet.

Harry turned his head to look back. "Like she said, I'm just a freak, a freak trying to be a hero."

Gathering orange flames over his entire body, Harry propelled himself into the air, shooting off into the sky in blaze of fire.

Releasing a whoop of joy, Harry shot through the sky, rolling and looping, even flying on a broom wasn't as good as this.

 

* * *

 

 _**E** _ _**dwards Air Force Base, California** _

 

"Sir! Major!"

Major John Allen looked up from his command post, hearing a technician calling for him, before striding over to her.

"What's the matter?" questioned Allen.

"We've got an unidentified object moving at incredible speeds," explained the technician, pointing to her screen, "and the energy readings are off the charts."

Allen studied the energy readings. "Report this to Division M and SHIELD, we have an 084."

 

* * *

 

_**Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts / 12.05.2009** _

 

The fireplace flashed green, Ignis stepping out of the flames to find Albus in the process of vanishing a destroyed mannequin and several severed vines.

Seeing only Albus in the office, Ignis reached up and removed her hood, allowing her red hair to spill out.

"Ah, Lily, how lovely to see you," greeted Albus, as he finished tidying up his office.

"Albus," replied Lily, taking a seat in a conjured armchair, as Albus took a seat in another. "Any reason your office looked like a warzone?"

Albus chuckled. "I have taken young Neville on as an apprentice, he has shown a prodigious ability for Herbomancy."

"An apprentice?" queried Lily. "After the last time?"

Albus inclined his head, "I swore I wouldn't take another apprentice after the unfortunate events in 1994, but Neville is a different story, he is a child of prophecy, he needs to be trained."

"You never trained Harry," responded Lily.

"I was wrong not to, that was a mistake," admitted Albus. "How is Harry doing, is he recovering after his rescue?"

"Physically, he's fine," answered Lily. "Mentally, not so much, the effects of torture have taken a toll on him."

"Is he safe?" queried Albus.

"He is," nodded Lily.

"How is he coping with, well, your return?"

Lily looked down. "He doesn't know."

Albus frowned. "Where is he?"

"Los Angeles," admitted Lily. "The bond between him and the soul fragment has been strengthened by the torture inflicted to him, the more he embraces negative emotions, the more Voldemort controls him. He will hate me, I bound him to that monster."

"I'm impressed," spoke Albus, making Lily look up in surprise. "Every single world you just said was spectacularly incorrect."

"Wait, what?"

"Harry is an orphan who has spent his entire life longing for his parents," answered Albus. "He has a capacity for forgiveness that is frankly, astonishing considering his upbringing."

Albus took a deep breath. "As for the fragment of Voldemort soul, that is a different matter."

 

* * *

 

_**Los Angeles / 14.05.2009** _

 

"You can't do this to me, this is an outrage!" shouted a man as he was dragged kicking and screaming from the Criminal Courts Building.

"Sure we can," retorted one of the arresting officers. "Embezzlement is a dangerous game to play when you're the DA."

Yelling in rage, the DA continued to struggle as he was lead to a waiting police car.

"Mendez!"

Detective John Mendez smiled from where he leant against the police cruiser. "Sir."

"You bastard!" roared the DA. "I'll kill you for this!"

"You can try," retorted Mendez, before addressing the arresting officers. "Take him the precinct, I'll meet you there."

The two officers nodded, forcing the DA into the back seat and climbing in the cruiser.

Mendez glanced around as the cruiser set off, quickly crossing the road and slipping into an alley.

"I know you're watching."

A thud sounded behind Mendez.

"Detective," greeted Harry.

"I wanted to thank you," spoke Mendez. "If you hadn't stepped in when you did, the papers proving DA Johnson's guilt would have been lost, no-one would have known where I left them."

"I didn't do this for thanks," replied Harry.

Mendez shrugged his shoulders. "Why did you do it?"

"Where I'm from, I'm called a hero for something that happened when I was a baby," admitted Harry.

"So you want to prove you can be a hero in your own right," realised Mendez.

"Something like that."

Mendez chuckled and turned to face Harry, only to find the alley empty.

"Damn, that's cool," grinned Mendez.

 

* * *

 

Kalkofen raced past pedestrians, uniformed officers chasing after her.

Seeing more officers coming from in front of her, Kalkofen cursed, she should have known that the DA would give her up in a heartbeat.

Turning right, Kalkofen charged down an alley, taking turn after turn in the hopes of confusing her pursuers.

Skidding to a halt, Kalkofen cursed at the sight of a dead end, a wall blocking her escape.

"Damn it!" yelled Kalkofen, punching the wall in anger as the sound of pounding feet got closer.

"I can help you."

Kalkofen span around, taking in the sight of a Pakistani man with a burnt face and a cultured British accent.

"Who the hell are you?" spat Kalkofen.

"Someone who wants revenge," answered Lucius calmly, spinning an ornate key around on his finger. "On the same person who gave you that burn."

Kalkofen reflexively pulled her jacket tighter around her, hiding the head of the phoenix burnt into her chest that peeked over the top of her t-shirt.

"How can you help me?" questioned Kalkofen. "They'll be here any second."

"All you have to do, is take my hand," instructed Lucius, holding out the hand with the key in it.

Kalkofen glanced from Lucius' hand to the direction of her pursuers and back to Lucius' hand.

"Screw it."

Kalkofen took Lucius' hand, before they both vanished in a whirl of light, the Portkey activating.

Rounding the corner, the police officers came to a halt at the sight of the dead end, their perp nowhere in sight.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to let you guys know, I've made a DeviantArt account where I am posting both the chapters of FiF and pixel art of my version of the Iron Man Mark I and Harry's makeshift suit. The link is both below and in my bio if you want to check it out.
> 
> bit.ly/2TfH97T


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